He Lives in You
by Kittyclaw
Summary: UxY, AU. Being the last of an assassin brotherhood is tough. Add in a beautiful assassin who would prefer to just kill you, a traveling companion neither of you can stand, and a ruthless king who wants you dead, and it becomes nearly impossible.
1. The Circle of Life

**It's been so horribly long since I posted anything of this type (this type being adventure) so even though I said I wouldn't post this until it was finished, I'm starting anyway. This story is AU, and contains some graphic violence (which will seems strange to those who know me for fluffy stuff, I'm sure) so those of you who aren't a fan, I advise you to tred carefully. Of course, the story also has humor and romance and lots of other fun stuff too. This is my first time trying something of this magnitude, so any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! On a final note, each chapter was inspired, oddly enough, by a track from the Lion King soundtrack. The chapter titles are the song it was inspired by. I belive that's all, and so on that note, please enjoy the fic!**

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Silent feet cut though the underbrush, soft leather boots soundless, but for the rustle of leaves, as soft as if they had been stirred by only a gentle breeze. The faintest swish of fabric could be heard as two figures darted through the trees, the weapons they carried on them strapped close so as not to catch on the branches that reached out, hoping to snag hair, limbs, shirts. The two men, only in their late teens, kids really, avoided the grasping branches with deft agility. They bounded over a fallen log, landing as soundless as cats on soft paws, their pace never breaking.

Ahead through the trees the sounds of the group the pair pursued could be heard. Cart wheels rattled along the narrow forest path, accompanied by the clatter of horse hooves on the ground. The faint chatter of the guards escorting the one cart convoy could be heard, although the exact topic of conversation went undefined. Not that it mattered. The two boys knew that the group had no idea they were coming.

Picking up their pace, the pair quickly over took the carriage. The boy at the front sent his companion a hand signal over his shoulder, and then motioned forward. The boy behind nodded, reaching back to grab the hood of his cloak and pull it over his shock of blonde hair. He then sprinted ahead of his companion to a nearby large tree, maintaining his momentum as he placed a foot against the trunk and used it to catapult himself up the side of the tree in a single, swift movement. He made no sound as he grabbed onto a thick branch, hauling himself into the higher boughs. His boots left no marks in the tree's bark. Soon the boy was concealed away among the leaves, leaving no sign of his lightning swift climb.

The other boy continued a little farther forward past his companion before slowing down, maintaining a low crouch as he cautiously approached the edge of the path, placing one foot gently before the other in slow, deliberate steps. Keeping himself carefully obscured within the tree line, the boy's hand fell to the sword hilt at his side. Fingers curled around it reflexively, their grip light.

Taking a deep breath, the boy took a quick moment to center himself. He let the breath out slowly, the warm air stirring a leaf that hung close to his face. And then slowly, his back pressed firmly against the tree behind him, he peered through the tangle of bushes that stood between himself and the path, his eyes seeking out his target.

He could make out the shadows of the approaching men as they reached across the packed earth in the early morning sun, the dark smudges stretched and distorted by the sun's low angle. The rumbling racket and clatter of the carriage and its horses was more than enough to cover any sound the boys might have made as they took up their positions, and the idle chatter of the guards screamed of inattention and lack of worry.

Taking another deep breath, the young man slid his feet apart, taking a more secure stance. He then waited, rocking lightly on the balls of his feet.

It didn't take long for the group to come into full view through the trees; sharp brown eyes quick to take in the members of the party. He counted six guards in total- two at the front, one to each of the cart's sides, and two more trailing at the rear. A driver sat at the front of the enclosed carriage, a scrawny man with a tangle of a beard, directing a pair of weary looking cart horses.

None of these men were who the young brown eyed man was looking for, which meant he was probably going to have to get into the carriage. A little extra work, but it wasn't wholly unexpected, and he wasn't complaining.

As the first of the guards came steadily closer, the young man took a moment to check them for any weapons. Both men carried swords at their hips, although the young man noticed that the guards walked as if the weapons was unfamiliar, their gaits ungainly as they adjusted for the extra weight. They didn't appear to have any other weapons on them, and the weapons they _did_ have went untouched. Probably a group of men hired last minute from a tavern in the town, the young man decided. Not a group familiar with the workings of a weapon, and obviously not one familiar with proper soldier etiquette.

The front guards were walking side by side, one with his hands behind his head, the other with them crossed over his chest, the pair talking to one another loudly. No soldier with a week's training would be so out of position, nor would he be talking so loudly as to be heard from across the woods in the next town.

It was rather pitiful really.

Taking another deep breath, the young man cleared his mind of such thoughts, returning his focus fully on the task at hand, as the carriage and escort continued drawing ever closer. Quickly the young man's mind ran through the plan he and the blonde had prepared, working the absent minded guards into the equation. He grinned. This mission was looking to turn out even simpler than expected. If he finished with this group quickly enough, he would be able to make it home before night fall.

But he would have to finish this mission first. And judging by how close the group was getting, he wouldn't be waiting much longer before it began.

Suddenly one of the guards at the front gaffed loudly at one of his companion's comments, the other guard grinning broadly. Up above, from the trees, came a sound like a whip cutting through the air, followed quickly by a choked grunt from one of the men at the side of the carriage. A glance showed the guard stumbling back, hands going to the arrow protruding from his neck. One of the guards at the back noticed his companion's plight and made to call out, but he was interrupted by another arrow, this one appearing between his ribs.

Without waiting to see the fate of the second guard, the young man burst from the bushes, bent forward in a sprint, his hand on his sword hilt as he pulled the weapon from its sheath. The two guards at the front hadn't even realized he was coming until he was upon them, sword swinging out in a wide arc that sliced cleanly through the first man's belly, sending a spray of glittering red droplets at the second guard, who stumbled reflexively backwards.

Following the momentum of his weapon, the young man spun a complete circle. His blade was slicing though the neck of the first guard on his second pass before the guard had time to react with anything but a gasped "Oh!" as he fell.

Skirting around the now dead guard as he collapsed to the ground, the young man took off after the second guard, who had stumbled back a few feet before becoming frozen, staring wide eyed at the carnage before him.

The young man rammed his sword back into its sheath as he lunged forward, his other hand coming up in the same moment to pull the knife concealed at his wrist. This action seemed to pull the guard from his stupor, as his instincts of self preservation over rode his shock and disgust.

"Get back!" the guard shouted, throwing his arms up over his face as the young man crashed into him, a collision that sent the two men tumbling to the floor. Eyes rolling wildly in his head, the guard swung his fists like crazy in an attempt to take out his attacker. The young man actually rolled his eyes at the poor guard's flailing before slamming the heel of his hand into the guard's chin, and then slicing through his exposed throat. The guard gurgled up at him for a moment, eyes going impossibly wide, and then he went still.

A roaring scream abruptly pulled the man's attention up from the body below him, where he was met with the sight of one of the remaining guards running at him, swinging his sword over his head as if he thought he were wielding an axe.

The young man quickly rolled away from the dead guard, ducking to the side as the angry soldier's wild swing came down on his dead companion's corpse. The young man rocked to his feet, and then leapt backwards as the soldier ripped his sword free of the body and swung at him again.

"I'll kill you!" the soldier screamed as the young man dodged his wild swings. Glancing over his shoulder, the young man saw that he was being backed towards the pair of carriage horses, and wondered idly is this was his attacker's plan, or just a simple coincidence.

The horses snorted nervously as the young man came closer, bumping one another as they tried to back away. They only succeeded in tangling themselves in their intricate harnesses, the metal buckles clanking against one another.

The young man pressed his lips together, their corners twitching up as he adjusted his grip on the knife still in his hand, mentally throwing together a quick, makeshift plan.

"What are you laughing at?" the solider roared, still swinging his sword like it was a club. The young man simply flashed him a wide, toothy grin as he jumped back from one of the soldier's wild swings and found himself backed against one of the horses. "Hah!" the soldier shouted, "you're trapped now!"

"You would think so," the young man said, before ramming the heel of his foot into the wooden beam that connected the cart to the horse's harness. The wood snapped with a resounding _crack_. Whinnying in surprise, the animal reared back away from the sound, and then charged forward, forcing the soldier to leap to the side to avoid being trampled by the now free animal as it thundered off into the forest.

With an angry shout, the soldier climbed quickly to his feet again, and once more charged at the young man.

And then he stumbled, an arrow protruding from his throat. The guard hovered for a moment, his expression one of surprise, and then he toppled forward, landing in a heap in the grass. The young man stared at the fallen guard for a moment before nodding to himself in a satisfied way, and then turning to face the carriage.

"You're welcome," a bemused voice called from above him. Looking up, the young man caught sight of his blonde companion—he was standing atop the carriage, a grin splitting his face. "I'll handle the last guard for you," his said, still grinning as he motioned to the back of the carriage with a jerk of his thumb. "You can go inside and chat it up with our new friend."

"What happened to the driver?" the young man asked, eyes darting to the carriage driver's empty seat. The blonde shrugged.

"He took off the second we showed up. Why, do you think he knows something?"

"No," the young man decided after a moment. "This lot is nothing more than a bunch of convenient thugs that were hired. I doubt he would have been told anything. But if we see him in the forest later, we'll take care of him."

"Aye aye, captain," the blonde said, giving his companion a mock salute. He earned himself a scowl for his troubles. Grinning in return, he motioned to the carriage roof between his feet with one of his arrows. "Are you going to get in there or what?"

"I'm going," the young man said. The blonde waved and then turned towards the back of the carriage as the young man started walking towards its side. He paused for a second when he reached the door, taking a deep breath as he rested his fingers on the door handle.

After a few seconds a scream sounded from the back of the carriage. The young man grinned when it was followed by a frightened whimper from inside the carriage. Grabbing the handle, he wrenched the carriage's door wide open.

"Please don't hurt me!" the man inside shrieked as soon as the door came open. The young man raised an eyebrow at the unexpectedly high pitch of the scream.

Sitting inside the carriage was a man of about middle age and substantial girth, with beady little eyes that peered out from a pudgy face. The hair atop his head was thin and wispy, and had been implemented in a failed attempt by the man to hide his rather large bald spot.

Covering the man were a number of furs and silks, all of which had been piled on for an obviously aesthetic purpose, rather than for any attempt at fashion. A large, shiny ring adorned each of his pudgy fingers, and a pair of thick gold chains hung about his second chin. The young man quickly classified him—overindulged aristocrat.

Not a threat in the least.

"Please!" the aristocrat continued to beg, fat hands clasped before his face, his chins wobbling as he spoke. "I have done nothing to hurt anyone!"

"So you claim," the young man said. He stepped up into the carriage, ducking into the dark little space and pulling the door firmly shut behind him. The aristocrat whimpered; trying to press himself further up against the carriage's back wall as the young man sat himself down on the seat across from him.

"Please, I-I'll give you anything you want!" the man continued to beg, "Whatever it is—just name it, it's yours! Just please don't hurt me!" He trailed off in a whimper, quailing under the man's dark gaze.

"What I want," the young man said slowly, "is information."

"Wh-what kind?" the aristocrat asked, his lips hanging open as he stared at his unwanted guest, his buggy little eyes wide.

"The kind you are carrying right now, to the King," the young man said. His expression was like ice. It caused the aristocrat to shiver, although he attempted to put forth a strong front.

"I d-don't know what y-you're talking about," he said, sitting a little straighter. The young man sighed, allowing the knife still in his hand to tilt just enough to catch the little bit of sun streaming in through the curtained window.

The blade glittered merrily in the light, the blood dripping from its tip glowing an almost cheery red.

The aristocrat made an odd choking sound.

"Well?" the young man asked.

"I…uh," the aristocrat answered, unable to pull his eyes from the knife. The young man continued to glare at him. Under that rock hard gaze, the aristocrat's resolve crumbled. "One of the King's guards asked me to find him the location of some place out in the woods."

"What place?" the young man snapped, sitting straighter.

"I don't know," the aristocrat almost whined. "Some church place or a cult of some kind, I don't know what, the guard never told me. I found a guy to go check it out. He wrote down the directions for me to pass on to the guard."

"And where are these directions?" the young man asked. The aristocrat licked his lips nervously, struggling to pull himself back together.

"…W-what will you give me for them?" he asked boldly.

The young man's eyes flashed.

"Your life."

"O-oh," the aristocrat answered, his beady eyes wide. "That uh, th-that sounds like a fair enough trade." Reaching into one of his furs, the aristocrat produced a small glass vial, plugged with a tiny cork. "Here you are sir," the aristocrat said, handing it over to the young man.

The young man took the vial, holding it up to the little bit of light filtering in through the crack in the curtains. Scowling at the minimal lighting, the young man reached up and tore the little curtains from the window. His sudden action made the aristocrat jump.

"Everything seems in order," the young man said, after a moment in which he carefully examined the scrap of paper rolled within the bottle. He tucked the vial away within his robe. "Thank you for your time."

"O-of course," the aristocrat said, nodding as the young man stood to leave again. Although still nervous, the aristocrat was emboldened by the fact that this man had not attempted to kill him, and was as a result unable to quite stay his tongue before audaciously asking, "Young man, what is your name?"

The young man, who was reaching for the door handle, turned back to look at the aristocrat and answered icily, "If I told you that, I would have to kill you." The aristocrat looked properly terrified.

"Uh…right, quite right," the aristocrat said, nodding. "Well uh, g-good day."

The young man nodded once and turned back to the door. He was about to turn to handle when he paused again.

"My name is Ulrich Stern."

"Oh," the aristocrat said, taken aback by having his question suddenly answered. He nodded a few times to himself, but then paused. "But didn't you just say…?" he started to ask, but trailed off when he noticed the young man grinning at him over his shoulder.

Outside, the young man's partner simply raised an eyebrow and shook his head at the blood that splattered the carriage's window.


	2. Grasslands Chant

**Behold, chapter two! This chapter will start introducing more of the fun stuff, and will get the story really going. Also, right now I'm trying for weekly updates on Sundays. Sounds good? Awesome. Now that that's settled, we shall continue on with our tale. Enjoy.**

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Twin hoof beats echoed through the forest, sending birds and rabbits scattering moments before two large horses burst through the brush, their hooves kicking up clods of dirt as they ran. Both horses ran without saddles or reins, their riders holding on with their knees, their hands gripped in the animals' manes. Shoulder to shoulder, the two riders seemed to be pushing to get ahead of one another, their horses snapping at one another as they raced.

Leaning farther forward over his horse, Ulrich egged it to go faster, a smirk lifting his lips when he spotted the log rising up from the ground ahead. His knees dug harder into the horse's side as he approached the obstacle.

The animal leapt gracefully over the fallen tree, its rider giving an exhilarated whoop as they flew through the air. He landed with a jolt, and Ulrich had to throw his arms down around the horse's neck to keep from falling off of his mount. The second horse whinnied loudly from behind him, followed by a startled shout.

"Odd?" Ulrich called, jerking his horse to a stop. He spun around, looking back to see what had become of his partner. He caught sight of the second horse, front legs kicking as it reared back and then fell forward again before bolting off into the trees. There was no rider on its back. Eyes narrowing, Ulrich forced his horse to turn around and go back.

"Odd!" he shouted as he got closer, eyes scouring the ground for any sign of the blonde. "Odd, are you okay?" At first the only response he received was silence, but after a moment a string of mumbled curses wafted up from behind the large log he had just jumped. A second later and a shock of blonde hair appeared, followed by the rest of Odd as the young man climbed to his feet. He winced slightly as he stretched out his back.

"Are you alright?" Ulrich asked again, moving his horse closer. Odd's response was to sigh.

"Remember that time when I told you I hated horses?" he asked, turning to stare at Ulrich.

"Sure," Ulrich answered.

"This is why," Odd said, waving his hand to point out the situation in general. "They hate me too."

Ulrich snorted, rolling his eyes at his companion. "They're animals Odd, they don't _hate_ people. They're not that smart."

"That's what you think," Odd said, pointing at Ulrich. "But if they don't hate me, then why did your horse jump this stupid log," Odd kicked the log for emphasis, "but mine decided to buck me off and run away?"

"You must have just tried to take the jump wrong," Ulrich said with a shrug. "Besides, it didn't buck you off. You _fell_ off."

"Only because the horse wanted me to," Odd insisted. Ulrich shook his head in exasperation.

"Come on you," he said, motioning to the back of his horse with a tilt of his head. "Get up here. We can finish this conversation when we get back."

"Get on _there?_" Odd asked, looking askance. "I don't think so."

"Odd, the horse isn't going to throw you off," Ulrich said, trying not to sound too annoyed with his companion. "I'm on here too. The horse likes me."

Both Odd and the horse snorted at this.

"No one asked you," Ulrich said, scowling at the horse.

"How do you know it was responding to what you said?" Odd teased. "It's just an animal, after all. And they're not smart."

"Odd, if you aren't on the back of this horse in the next five seconds, you're walking back."

"Yeah, yeah," Odd huffed, though he climbed over the log and approached Ulrich and his steed. After giving the horse a good, long glare, Odd took Ulrich's proffered hand, allowing his friend to help haul him up onto the horse. They pair moved as if such action was well rehearsed, Ulrich leaning forward right as Odd's leg swung over top of him. The blonde's hands then wrapped around Ulrich's hips right as Ulrich gave the horse a kick to get going again.

"Not too fast," Odd warned.

"Tired of being acquainted with the ground?" Ulrich teased, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Hey, eyes front and center!" Odd shouted, pointing forward. Ulrich rolled his eyes, but complied.

"The horse isn't going to plow into a tree just because I'm not watching out for them." Odd's response was to huff in annoyance. Ulrich laughed. Even so, he kept his eyes forward after that, and didn't go faster than a trot.

For some time the pair rode in companionable silence, content to sit quietly with their own thoughts. For Ulrich, his thoughts drifted back to their mission and, more specifically, the reason behind it. Absently, he reached up to pat the pocket on the inside of his robe, sitting against the left side of his chest. He felt the shape of the small glass vial there and sighed softly. Odd, whose arms were still around Ulrich's waist, felt his friend shift.

"What're you doing?" he asked curiously, leaning against Ulrich as he tried to look over the brunet's shoulder.

"Mind your own business," Ulrich answered jokingly, using his shoulder to push Odd back. Odd's response was to simply collapse against his friend's back. "Odd!" Ulrich shouted, startled, as fell forward, wrapping his legs tightly around the horse. "You're going to knock us off!"

"You could use a good fall from a horse," Odd responded, sitting back upright.

"Why don't you just tell me about it instead?" Ulrich asked, smirking over his shoulder. Odd smacked Ulrich in the stomach.

"So, how did your interview go?" he asked suddenly, changing the subject. Ulrich's brow furrowed for a moment, before he realized Odd was referring to his chat with the man in the carriage.

"I got what we came for," Ulrich said simply.

"And you got to kill a rich guy in the process," Odd said.

"I had to," Ulrich told his companion. "He knew too much."

Odd's response was a slightly derisive snort.

"I'm sure he did," Odd said. "Speaking of total lies, did I tell you that I've learned how to turn my spit into gold?" Now it was Ulrich's turn to snort, although he didn't comment. "Come one Ulrich," Odd said. "What's the real reason?"

Ulrich looked over his shoulder, his brown eyes meeting Odd's blue.

"I wasn't lying," he said. "He knew too much."

"Ulrich," Odd said, turning the name into a huffy whine, "you really need to talk to someone about this hatred for rich people if it's going to interfere with your work." With a burst of laughter, Ulrich turned his gaze forward once more. It seemed there was nothing he could lie to his companion about. At least, not lie and get away with it.

"What can I say," he said instead, with a small shrug. "They hate me too."

"Yeah, well, I don't go around killing horses, now do I?" Odd asked, giving Ulrich a poke in the ribs. Ulrich shrugged again.

"You might," he answered. "I'm not with you for every single minute of the day, after all. How would I know if you were using your spare time to hunt down hapless horses?"

"Actually, you pretty much _are _with me every minute of the day," Odd countered. "We _are_ partners after all." Ulrich 'hmm'd in response, his head tilting to the side.

"What about at night," he tried. "Maybe you sneak out at midnight and go on a horse massacre."

"Ulrich," Odd answered flatly.

"I should probably warn the stable keepers," Ulrich mused, ignoring his friend.

"That's it," Odd relented, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "You caught me."

"I knew it," Ulrich said, grinning. He could practically feel Odd's eyes rolling in his head as he wrapped his arms back around Ulrich's waist.

"Just shut up and take us home."

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The sun was hanging low in the sky, glowing a dark pink color and casting long, deep shadows when the two men immerged from the woods and moved onto the cobblestone road. The _clop, clop_ of the horse's hooves echoed off of the stones, bouncing between the rows of trees before fading into the night.

"And the Leader wonders why we complain about horses not being stealthy," Odd grumbled under his breath. Ulrich snorted.

"You don't have to walk the horses on the street," Ulrich answered patiently. "And besides, it makes a great doorbell."

"Yeah, yeah," Odd grumbled. A small smile flittered across Ulrich's face as he straightened, craning his neck to look farther down the winding road. Just around the bend in the distance, he could make out the shadowed edges of a building, emerging from behind the slope of land rising up along the right side of the path. Squeezing with his knees, Ulrich urged the horse to move faster, excited by the prospect of finally returning home.

Slowly, the distant building became visible as the pair rounded the slope. Towering sandstone walls loomed up into the evening sky, revealing an ancient castle at the end of the winding road. Its barbican faced the approaching pair, as if watching them drawing nearer to the castle it protected. Ulrich could just make out, in the fading light, the shape of a person as they appeared along the barbican's top wall. Quickly Ulrich racked his brain, trying to remember who was currently on guard duty.

"Look," Odd said, reaching over Ulrich's shoulder and pointing to the figure. "Emily came out to welcome us home!"

_That's right_, Ulrich thought, as the shadowed shape came into view, revealing a young, brown haired woman no older than Odd and Ulrich themselves. _Emily and Noemie are the current guard._ Emily leaned forward between the battlements that encompassed the top of the barbican, one hand held over her brow as she looked out over the road. Raising his arm above his head, Ulrich waved to the female guard.

"Hey Emily!" Odd hollered from behind Ulrich, waving both arms rapidly over his head. Emily waved back, and then vanished down below the parapet. For a few moments there was no movement from the castle. Then, with an arthritic creaking, the barbican's drawbridge began to pull away from the stone wall.

Ulrich's horse came to a stop as the group reached the road's end—a sharp, sudden cut off just over two dozen feet from the barbican, directly beyond which was a short drop and then the beginnings of a deep, murky moat. Ulrich wrinkled his nose as he looked down into the waters. While he was assured time and again that the moat was empty of wildlife, he was positive that whenever he looked into its depths, something darted away from the surface, and his gaze.

"Coming down!" Emily shouted from up above, having reappeared at the battlements. Below her, the drawbridge was slowly lowering with a steady rumbling clank of unraveling ancient chains. Just beyond the thick wooden blockade, Ulrich could see the second door, a grate of interlaced iron strips, as it lifted out of the barbican's passageway. "How was the mission?" Emily asked curiously as the group waited on the creeping door.

"It went well," Ulrich answered, pulling his horse back a few steps so as to avoid the lowering drawbridge. "We found our target easily enough, and we got what we were sent to retrieve."

"And what might that have been, I wonder?" Emily asked playfully. Ulrich gave her a pointed look.

"You know that I'm not allowed to share that with you," he told her sternly.

"I know," Emily said, waving her hand dismissively. "Everyone in the castle knows."

"Everyone?" Odd asked over Ulrich's shoulder. Emily nodded.

"You boys know how it is with these high level assignments," she said. "The specifics of the mission remain secret. The fact that it is being carried out, and who it's being carried out by, does not." Ulrich nodded, just as the drawbridge dropped down against the path with a resounding _thud_.

"You're a bunch of gossips, the lot of you," he shouted up to Emily as he started across the drawbridge.

"You know you talk about it too!" Emily shouted after him as he vanished into the barbican's shadowy passageway. The sound of the horse's hoofs against the stone floor echoed strangely inside the building, attracting the attention of a young man across the other side of the room.

"Back so soon?" he called to the pair as they passed. "Everyone thought you'd be gone for at least another two days."

"Psh," Odd answered, waving his hand. "It might take that long if you were the one sent out, Romain. But not for experts like Ulrich and myself."

"Be careful Odd," Romain warned, "that huge ego is bound to make you a little top-heavy. We wouldn't want it to cause you to fall off of that horse."

Ulrich struggled to turn a snicker into a cough, while Odd glared daggers at a now grinning Romain.

"Watch yourself, Le Goff!" Odd shouted after the boy as he and Ulrich made their way out of the barbican. "If I was you, I'd sleep with one eye open."

"I always do!" Romain shouted back. Odd huffed, crossing his arms and returning his gaze forward as the horse reached a second drawbridge, this one already lowered over top of the stretch of moat that separated the barbican from the castle proper. Unlike the first drawbridge, this door was split into two parts—the main bulk of the door, which currently hung half raised, and a smaller sliver of the drawbridge, which was lowered down over the moat and served as the foot bridge into the castle. It was narrow, only big enough to allow groups on foot if they traveled two men wide, with a troupe of horses having to walk single file.

"Sleep with one eye open?" Ulrich repeated, staring at Odd over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised, as they started across the mini drawbridge.

"What about it?" Odd asked, frowning. "He doesn't know that I won't try and kill him in his sleep, especially not after that little remark." Ulrich stared at Odd a moment longer, before deciding that he would be wasting his wit on a retort and then turned back around, just as they finished crossing over the moat and entered the castle grounds.

The entryway opened out into the castle's large lower bailey, which stretched out before them, the castle's large inner courtyard teeming with young men and women going about their last minute business as the day slowly drew to a close. A few of the people waved to Ulrich and Odd as they passed, the two boys returning the friendly greetings.

Veering left, away from the wall that stretched across the castle grounds from the entryway to the far wall, splitting the grounds in half and separating the lowery bailey from the main bailey, the boys turned to the east wall, along which stretched the castle's stables. Nudging the horse into a trot, Ulrich made his way towards the long wooden structure, aiming for the man standing near the end of the stable, currently raking out the hay from one of the stalls.

"Hey, Michel!" Odd shouted; planting his hands on Ulrich's shoulder's and levering himself up higher.  
"Look what we brought you!"

"What's that, Della Robbia?" Michel shouted back as he turned to face the approaching pair. Wiping a sleeve across his brow, his eyebrows rose at the sight of the two assassins. "You finally got me a replacement?" he asked, eyeing the horse speculatively.

"Sure did," Odd told him with a grin. When Ulrich brought the horse to a halt in front of Michel, Odd slid down from the animal's back. He then took a step back and spread his arms, taking the pose of someone presenting a magnificent gift. "One cart horse, to replace the one I lost."

"You didn't lose my horse," Michel countered. "You got it killed on one of you missions. And you didn't 'lose' one, you lost _two_. I only see one replacement here."

"We had two," Odd said with a shrug. "But Ulrich let the other one get away."

"Because it's _my_ fault that the horse you were riding took a jump wrong and made you fall off," Ulrich snipped, swatting Odd in the back of the head. The blonde yelped, then turned around and punched Ulrich in the thigh, the hit landing terribly close to Ulrich's family jewels. Ulrich's response was a pained noise from deep in his throat, followed by the boy curling around his injured pride, and then tumbling off of the horse to the dusty ground below.

"Cheap shot," Ulrich ground out from where he lay, glaring daggers up at Odd.

"No such thing," Odd shot back smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Only strategic points of attack."

"I'm going to kill you tonight," Ulrich hissed as gingerly moved into an upright position.

"Before or after my midnight horse massacre?" Odd teased. He then caught the look Michel was giving him, and grinned sheepishly. "Uh, it's a joke," he told the stable keeper. The older man shook his head in a way that said clearly he thought it better he didn't know.

"Is he trained?" he asked the two men, motioning to the horse.

"Think so," Odd answered, shrugging one shoulder. "It was being used to pull carts."

"Cart horse, huh?" Michel said as he made his way back to the stable. He rummaged about by a work table that was littered with supplies, and then returned, carrying a halter and lead. "You know, he looks like he's getting up in years. I don't know how useful he's going to be on missions, especially if he has to survive the two of you."

"He'll make a good training horse," Odd said. "The rookies need something old and slow."

"I have plenty of training horses," Michel groused, slipping the halter over the horse's head. "What I don't have are many good, fast, reliable horses. Like the two that you boys lost."

"Well then, we'll give you this guy here, and one really, really, _really _good horse. Does that sound fair?" Michel stared at Odd for a few moments, before rolling his eyes. He then seemed to really consider the offer. For a few seconds Odd rocked on the balls of his feet, hoping that the man would agree. When Michel grinned at him, his hope flared.

"Alright," Michel answered slowly. "But on one condition."

"What's that?" Odd asked eagerly. He would do anything if it meant he could get Michel off of his back over the lost horses.

"You have to come help me teach my class tomorrow."

Odd deflated visibly. If there was one thing he disliked more than teachers pestering him, it was helping them teach the new recruits.

"There isn't anything else you would rather have me do?" Odd pleaded.

"This is your offer," Michel said, snapping the lead onto his new charge's halter. "Teach my class and owe me one decent horse, or don't teach them, and owe me three more horses."

"We'll do it," Ulrich said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Odd's shoulder. Michel smiled at the brunet, while Odd simply gaped.

"Thank you, Stern," Michel said, giving Ulrich a nod. "The class starts at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. We're working on dismounting an opponent when you're both on horseback. It might be a little hard to manage with Della Robbia as you partner. After all, he doesn't exactly need an opponent with a sword to get him off of the back of a horse."

Odd scowled darkly at both Michel and Ulrich, the latter having failed miserably at hiding a snort of laughter.

"I can ride just fine, thank you very much," Odd huffed, turning away from the two men. "Now if you don't mind, I have to go and see the leader to inform him on how our top secret mission went."

"Uh-huh," Michel answered; turning and leading the horse towards the stables. "Remember, nine o'clock sharp!"

"We'll be here," Ulrich called. He then turned and jogged after Odd, who was marching away from the stables, towards the other side of the castle. "Hey, slow down Odd," he said as he caught up to the blonde, reaching out to grab his friend's shoulder.

"I can't believe you agreed to that!" Odd shouted, shrugging off Ulrich's hand. "Do you really want to teach a bunch of runts tomorrow?"

"No, I don't," Ulrich answered. "But I want to go find a bunch of new horses even less." Odd sighed heavily, but he reduced his angry stomping, moving in step with Ulrich's slower pace. The pair was now heading west, across the lower bailey and towards the wall that divided the courtyard from the smaller, main bailey. The wall was broken by a pair of archways, through which a few people filtered as they went about their individual tasks.

The wall started at the west side of the castle's main entrance, stretching all the way across till it met the double storied, 'T' shaped building at its other end. The wall ran flush with the building's east wall, the building continuing to the castle's far south wall, where it then branched off to the left and right. The right branch reached all the way to the west wall, where it merged with the castle's south western tower. The building's left branch extended only a short ways into the lower bailey.

As Ulrich watched, a person emerged from the building's second story, from a window that opened out onto the dividing wall. Dropping down onto the wall, the person started off along the inner battlements, jogging at an easy pace. His destination was clear—the only place that could be reached via the wall was the front gate. Odd laughed when he caught sight of the boy.

"Hey, Herve," he shouted, waving to get the boy's attention. "They've got you running _messenger _duty? That sucks."

"Only because you weren't here," Herve shouted back. "There were no lackeys to do the job!"

"I wasn't here because this 'lackey' was off doing official, secret business for the Leader," Odd cajoled. "When's the last time you were given a mission by anyone higher up than the cooks?"

"Shove it, Della Robbia," Herve spat, before continuing on towards the front gate.

"Why do you taunt him like that?" Ulrich asked as the pair continued through one of the arches in the wall.

"Why _don't_ you?" Odd shot back. "He's practically asking to be teased."

"How is he 'asking to be teased'?" Ulrich asked; his brow furrowed.

"You would know if you'd taken an archery class with him."

"Odd, we can't all be master archers like you."

"This is true," Odd conceded. "But it takes talent the likes of which only Poliakoff has to make Jeremy look like he knows what he's doing with a bow and arrow."

Ulrich actually came to a full stop, eyebrows rising all the way to his hairline. Odd took a few more steps before he realized that Ulrich was no longer following and pulled up short, turning to look at his companion.

"He's _that_ bad?" Ulrich gaped. Odd nodded solemnly. Ulrich blinked. "I take it back," the brunet declared. "He _is_ asking to be teased."

"Told you," Odd said; his grin triumphant as he made his way back over to Ulrich. Throwing an arm around the young man's shoulders, Odd tugged him forward once more. "Now come on, we have a leader to meet with."

The pair continued across the main bailey, directing their path towards the castle's north western corner, which was dominated by a large tower, the structure the tallest on the castle grounds. It was ringed at the top with two rows of windows, one row protruding out farther from the tower than the one above it. It was topped with a wide, pointed spire, shingled with reddish clay tiles. At its base was a narrow, curving doorway, its thick wooden door propped open. Ulrich was just reaching this doorway when he realized that Odd was not following him.

"What are you doing?" he asked his companion when he spotted the blonde at the side of the tower. Odd had his fingers wedged into the cracks between the stones that formed the tower, one foot planted against its side.

"I'm going up to talk to the Leader," Odd said, as if it were oh so obvious.

"Not like that, you're not," Ulrich told him. Odd gave him a petulant look.

"Why not?" he about whined. Ulrich gave him a flat look.

"You are not starting a meeting with the Leader by crawling in through one of his windows."

"But—"

"No."

Odd frowned, pouting at Ulrich pitifully. The brunet swatted at him.

"Come on," he said, heading into the tower. "It won't kill you to take the stairs just once."

"It might," Odd huffed, following after Ulrich. "How horrible would you feel if we got to the top of the stairs, and I tripped and fell and died?"

"If you don't stop whining, you'll be falling because I pushed you," Ulrich snapped. Odd grinned, making his way past Ulrich to the base of the stairwell. The stairs were the only thing inside the hollow tower base. Built straight out of the stone that formed the tower, the stairs curved up along the wall, spiraling up towards the rooms above.

Odd paused when he reached the stairs, one foot on the first step as he turned towards Ulrich.

"What?" Ulrich asked, titling his head slightly. Odd flashed him a sly look.

"Last one to the top gets to be the one getting knocked off the horse tomorrow."

And with that Odd bolted off, taking the stairs three at a time.

"Wha—Hey!" Ulrich shouted angrily, taking off after the blonde. He could hear Odd's laughter echoing through the tower.

The pair circled around the stairs, feet pounding the stones as they raced upwards. Though he pushed himself hard, Ulrich wasn't able to pass Odd before they reached the top. He was, however, able to get close enough to grab the back of the blonde's cloak before he thundered through the opening in the ceiling, through which the stairs led.

"Whoa!" Odd cried out; pin wheeling his arms as he was yanked backwards.

"Hush," Ulrich shushed his friend, planting his free hand against Odd's back to help him keep his balance. "We can't go charging into the leader's office."

"Yeah, yeah," Odd answered dismissively, though he kept his tone lower than it had been. He and Ulrich paused at the top of the stairs for a moment to catch their breath, both panting lightly from their sprint, and then they walked together up into the room above.

They emerged along the wall at one end of the large, circular room. Windows, placed evenly all the way around the room, filled the place with pale, natural light. The sunbeams caught in the swirls of the dust that filtered about the room, swirling in between the collection tall bookshelves. The book piled structures were arranged in two semi-circles at either side of the attic like door, creating an aisle that ran across the room.

At the other end of the room, opposite of where Ulrich and Odd stood, was a large desk, behind which was seated a silver haired man, a pair of small glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The two large windows behind him sat open, letting in the cool evening air and allowing a view of the woods spreading out beyond the castle. The man had been pouring over a thick tome when the boys had arrived, though he now watched them intently as they stepped around the opening in the floor and approached his desk.

"Stern, Della Robbia," he greeted the pair, nodding to them.

"Sir," both boys responded. They dropped their gazes respectfully, and then lowered down to one knee, heads lowered in a bow.

"Tell me," the old man said, slipping a thick ribbon between the pages of his book, and then gently shutting it, "how was your mission?" Odd turned his head, while keeping it bowed, to look at Ulrich. The brunet raised his gaze as he answered the man's question.

"Successful," Ulrich said. "We were able to locate the man where you said he would be. He didn't seem to know much, but he did give us this." Ulrich's hand slipped into his cloak to appear a moment later, presenting the vial the aristocrat had presented him. The man sat straighter in his chair. With a flick of a finger, he motioned for Ulrich to bring him the vial.

Ulrich rose to his feet, Odd mirroring the movement, and stepped up to the aged desk. He held the vial out in his open palm, allowing the man to pick it out of his hand. He stepped back again as the man examined the tiny bottle, moving to stand beside Odd.

"The paper inside," the man said, holding the bottle to the light, "did you ever look to see what was on it?"

"No," Ulrich answered shortly. "You asked only that I brought it back." The old man smiled.

"That I did," he said softly. Lowering the vial, his free hand disappeared to his waist for a quick moment. When it returned, he was holding an ornate knife, with a brilliant silver blade and an ivory handle, decorated with golden scripture. The man took the tip of the knife and plunged it into the vial's tiny cork, working carefully to lever out the little stopper. It came loose with a faint _pop_.

Setting aside the knife, the man upturned the vial, tapping its bottom with his finger, his other hand outstretched to catch the little scroll of paper as it slipped free. Setting aside the bottle, the man gently unrolled the small sheet, squinting to read whatever it was written on the bit of parchment.

Ulrich narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched the man for any reaction to what he was reading. It didn't seem that the paper carried anything good, although the only change in the man was a tightening around his eyes as he continued to read. Ulrich had to swallow back the urge to ask about the contents of the paper.

After a full minute had passed, during which the man studied the paper closely, he sighed heavily, turning his attention back to the young men standing across from him.

"You have done us a great service in retrieving this," he said slowly, holding up the paper. "Know that you have the thanks of this entire gathering."

"Thank you sir," both boys mumbled, bowing respectfully as they did. The man sighed again; the sound much softer this time.

"It has been a long day for you, and now you need your rest," he said. He gave the pair a small smile. "You are dismissed."

With another bow, Odd and Ulrich turned and walked back to the attic door. They descended the stairs in silence, waiting until they were back out on the bailey before they spoke.

"So," Odd drawled, as soon as the pair hit the outside. "What did you think of that?"

"I think we should have looked at what was in the bottle," Ulrich answered softly. "Whatever was on that paper, it has the leader worried."

"You noticed that, did you?" Odd teased lightly. Ulrich rolled his eyes.

"You're not the only one who can notice a few changes in someone's posture, you know."

"But I am better at it than you," Odd pointed out. He earned himself a swat on the back of the head for his troubles. "You know, I think I'm sensing some anger, Ulrich."

"You'll be sensing your death if you don't cut it out," Ulrich growled back.

"You know Ulrich," Odd started, grinning slyly, "You should really talk to someone about all of this pent up aggression."

Ulrich's response was to fling himself at his friend. However, Odd had planned for just this reaction, and was already sprinting away, leaving Ulrich to stumble into empty air.

"You'd better run!" Ulrich shouted, taking off after Odd. "If I catch you, I'll wring your neck!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

"Is that a challenge?" Ulrich hollered. Odd answered by grinning over his shoulder, and then picking up speed. Ulrich did the same, grinning as well as he bolted after the blonde.

The pair shot through the archway leading back into the lower bailey, Odd laughing as he dodged away from Ulrich, the brunet's fingers just brushing the material of Odd's cloak.

"You can't catch me!" Odd taunted, swerving to the right. Ulrich growled and lunged at him again, but once more the blonde danced out of his reach. The pair continued their chase across the courtyard, making their way towards the castle's southeast corner. Here stood the second tallest building on the grounds, a great big rectangular shaped structure that rose up four stories above the ground. Like before, Odd opted to forego use of the building's door, instead beginning to scramble up its side, fingers and toes deftly finding the numerous hand and foot holds scattered between the large stone blocks.

This time, instead of telling the blonde off, Ulrich followed him up the side of the building. He found each crack and crevice with practiced ease, scaling the building side like a squirrel up a tree. He gained ground on Odd about where the building's third floor started. With a grin, he lunged forward, snagging the end of Odd's cloak and pulling. Odd yelped at the sudden jerk, his grip slipping. He was forced to flatten against the wall, scrambling to get better purchase.

It was exactly the result Ulrich was looking for. He shot past Odd, the blonde shouting curses after him as he climbed up towards a window directly above them, on the fourth floor. As soon as he reached the window ledge he was shoving at the window. It flew open and Ulrich planted both hands on the sill, using them to lever his body up and other the ledge and through the opening. He turned sideways as he passed through the window, continuing around to land inside, on his back.

He had no time to lay and catch his breath, however, before a bush of blonde hair appeared at the window. Ulrich rolled out of the way just as Odd flung himself through the window, landing in a heap across the spot where Ulrich had just laid.

"You…cheated," Odd spat around his panting. Ulrich laughed.

"Didn't know…there were rules," he panted back. Odd wrinkled his nose at him in response. He took another moment to catch his breath, and then climbed to his feet. Smiling, Ulrich followed suit.

He and Odd had thrown themselves through the window of what seemed to be a bedroom. The window was the only one in the room, with a single door across the other side. A bed sat against the wall both to the left and right, each with its own nightstand. Two wardrobes rested against the wall with the door, one at the end of each bed.

Odd had wandered over to the left side of the room, easily the messier of the two sides. Stopping at the nightstand, he stretched widely, sighing as his back let off a series of cracks and pops.

"That's disgusting Odd," Ulrich said, pulling a face as he made his way to the bed on the right.

"But it feels amazing," Odd sighed. Once he was done stretching, Odd reached around to the quiver strapped to his back and pulled it off. Dumping it on the floor by his bed, Odd then proceeded to rummage about his person, producing three knives of various sizes, all of which he deposited in a pile on the nightstand.

Ulrich watched his companion with a look of resigned annoyance before making his way over to the wardrobe at the end of the bed. He removed his sword, resting it reverently against the side of the wardrobe, and then shrugged out of his cloak. He was hanging it up within the wardrobe when he noticed Odd dumping his own cloak across the floor.

"You do know we share this room, don't you?" Ulrich asked, proceeding to pull of his boots, which then joined the cloak.

"Of course I do," Odd answered, his own outer layers of clothing joining the growing pile at the blonde's feet.

"…Just making sure." Shaking his head, Ulrich made his way back over to his bed, pulling out his own collection of knives and setting them down neatly along his nightstand. He then perched on the edge of his bed.

Across the room, Odd flung himself onto his own mattress. Ulrich rolled his eyes, but didn't comment as the blonde burrowed down into his blankets.

"G'night, Ulrich!" Odd called around a yawn. Ulrich smiled slightly as he lay down in his own bed, pulling the blanket up over his chest.

"Good night Odd."


	3. The Morning Report

**Update fail. I know I said every Saturday, but then I went out of town and forgot to update before I left the house. My bad. But I do return, with apologies and an update! Onward with our heroes's story! (ps. FFN has decided to reject my usual page breaks, much to my sadness and exasperation. So I will now be using the big ol' line things. Observe--)**

* * *

Odd crouched low in the bushes, creeping along slowly; carefully side stepping each dry twig and loose rock that littered his path. Through the bramble of leaves he could just make out his target—a group of carriages, all circled around a large fire. Through the window of one of the carriages, this one placed closest to the fire, Odd could make out the shadowy forms of the five nobles that he knew were currently meeting within the confines of the flamboyant vehicle. It was one of these men whom held the information Odd had been sent to retrieve. Odd smiled grimly. Getting what he wanted from the pampered rich men wasn't going to be a challenge, not in the least.

However, getting past the dozen hulking armored guards surrounding the carriage might be. Each man was covered from chest to toe in shiny steel armor, and each was armed with a heavy sword.

"Not a problem," Odd muttered to himself. He reached his right hand over his shoulder, grabbing the end of his bow and pulling it slowly from the quiver. Then, gently, so as not to rattle the leafy branches around him, Odd strung his bow. All the while he kept his eyes on the guards, watching to make sure none of them spotted his careful movements.

Suddenly one of the guards turned in Odd's direction, taking a few steps towards his hiding place. Odd froze, his breath held and muscles locked, tensing in preparation to fend off any attacks from the guard.

He needn't have been so worried. The guard simply took a few steps away from the group to let loose a loud, wet sneeze, and then turned and rejoined the others. Odd released his held breath in a silent _whoosh_.

Adjusting his stance and still taking every care with his movements, Odd reached back over his shoulder to retrieve one of his arrows. Notching it into his bow, Odd drew the bow slowly, tilting his head to look down the length of the shaft as he did. He shifted the bow slightly until he had one of the guards in his sight. With a tight lipped grin, Odd pulled back on the arrow a little more, feeling the feathers at its end tickling his cheek.

The arrow made no sound as it was released, other than the faint rustle of leaves as the arrow passed through the bush. The guard never saw the airborne weapon coming. As he toppled to the ground, the arrow protruding from his temple, it was safe to assume the man never knew what hit him.

Odd had two more arrows notched before one of the other guards discovered his fallen brethren. With a surprised shout, the guard spun around and signaled for another man to join him. Odd tilted his bow a little as the second man came to stand beside the first. With a _twang_ the bow released, the twin arrows soaring towards their targets.

The two men toppled to the ground beside the body of the first with the soft clang of shifting armor. Odd stayed still, waiting to see if the sound attracted any of the other guards. It didn't. Smiling at his good fortune so far, Odd slowly slipped free of the bushes. Maintaining a low crouch, he moved swiftly into the clearing.

Reaching one of the empty carriages, Odd pressed his back against it, straining his ears for any sign of where the other guards were. He could hear a group of them just around the other side of the carriage, discussing something in hushed tones. Odd listened just long enough to ensure that it wasn't him they were talking about before turning to face the wagon. Then, with nimble grace of a mountain goat, Odd scaled the side of the carriage. The vehicle barely rocked as he reached the top. Lying across the carriage roof on his stomach, Odd slowly shimmied his way across the smooth, golden colored surface to peer down on the men conversing below.

There were three guards standing close together, whispering among themselves. Whatever it was, Odd hopped it was really important, since the men had all let down their guards for this little chat of theirs. Not that Odd was all that concerned with the topic of their chitchat. All that mattered to him was that it had left the men wide open to an attack. Stuffing his bow back into his quiver, Odd drew the large knife as his waist as he shifted into a crouch. Then, as soon as he had his weapon at the ready, he pounced.

In ten seconds Odd was brushing himself off and tucking his knife away before hurrying over to duck behind the next carriage, leaving the three men in a heap on the ground. Scooting around to the back of the carriage, Odd again grabbed his bow and strung it while peering around the corner of his hiding place. He could see two more of the guards standing near the fire, both with their backs to him as they watched the carriage within which the nobles were carrying out their meeting.

"Too easy," Odd muttered as he pulled two arrows from his quiver. As with his previous kills, this one was completely silent, the men crumpling to the ground without an sign of an attacker. Or so Odd had thought.

"Halt!" a gruff voice bellowed, causing Odd to spin around with a start. He came face to face with the point of a sword. Eyes tracing up the length of the weapon, Odd found himself being loomed over by one of the burly guards.

"Uh, hi," Odd said; eyes wide. Instinctively, his hand moved towards the knife at his belt.

"Don't move," the guard hissed. Odd froze.

"Can't we, you know, talk about this?" he pleaded; doing his best to look as small and innocent as possible. The guard narrowed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath before announcing,

"That's not how it happened."

Odd's frightened stare turned into an annoyed glare.

"Ulrich, stop interrupting. I'm trying to tell a story here."

"Story being the operative word."

The group gathered around the blonde laughed as Odd turned his glare to the bespectacled boy sitting across the dinning hall's long wooden table.

"Who was the one on this mission?" Odd asked. "You or me?"

"Yeah Jeremy," said the girl sitting to the right of the boy wearing the glasses. "Personally, I thought it was a wonderful story."

"Because it's _only_ a story, Aelita," Ulrich said with a grin. Aelita grinned back.

"This is true."

"You are a horrible group of friends," Odd huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping in his seat.

"Aww, we're sorry Odd," Emily said, sitting on Odd's left. She looped an arm around the blonde's shoulders in a quick hug. "If it makes you feel better, it was still an exciting story."

"See Odd?" Jeremy said, pushing up his glasses. "If this whole assassin thing doesn't work out, you've still got a promising career as a story teller!"

"Stuff it Belpois," Odd grumbled, although there was a grin on his face. Jeremy pulled a face at his friend.

"Enough of that," Aelita said, giving Jeremy a light shove. "Finish your breakfast before it gets cold, the lot of you."

"Yes mom," Odd responded cheekily. She wrinkled her nose at him before giving her eggs a particularly vicious stab with her fork. Odd gulped, turning his attention to his suddenly very interesting plate of food. He could hear Ulrich snickering, and gave the boy a swift kick under the table. The laughter cut off with a choked sound of pain.

Grinning at his minor victory, Odd began to shovel down the food on his plate. He paused suddenly, however, when it occurred to him that his plate—currently piled high with just about every food available on the long table—was missing a key food product.

He had no sausage.

Frowning, Odd turned his attention to the various platters and bowls spread along the table, eyes searching them for the absent meat. His eyes lit with triumph when he finally spotted a large plate with a couple of the links sitting on it. He started to reach for the plate—only to jerk his hand back again, clutching it to his chest as he stared with wide eyes at the large knife protruding from the table between him and the sausage.

"Too slow," the dark haired girl on Jeremy's left announced, grinning as she reached over and snagged the remaining sausages with her fork before retrieving her knife. Odd gaped at her, while those around him laughed.

"Nice one, Noemie," Emily called, giving the other girl a high-five over the table.

"Thanks," Noemie said, taking a bite of the sausage.

"No fair," Odd whined. Ulrich patted him on the shoulder.

"Sorry Odd," he said. "But we don't have time to sulk. Hurry up and eat, we have a class to go help teach." This elicited a series of angrily grumbled curses and complaints, all of which the brunet ignored as Odd finished wolfing down his food.

"Alright," Odd said, as the last lump of eggs vanished from his plate. "I'm ready." Waving a quick goodbye to those staying at the table; Odd bounced up and followed after Ulrich, the pair heading for the doors at the far end of the dining hall. They receive various shouts of 'good morning' and 'how are you?' as they crossed through the high ceilinged hall, passing along the side of the wide dining table. Ulrich and Odd answered back to all of the calls. The atmosphere in the hall was nothing but jovial and friendly.

An odd contrast, when one considered the career this hall full of people had dedicated themselves to.

Leaving the noise of the hall behind, Ulrich and Odd stepped out into the morning late morning light cascading over the castle walls. Odd stretched widely as he reached the warmth, letting out a long groan of comfort as he did. Ulrich poked him in the stomach.

"What are you, a cat?" Ulrich teased as Odd scowled at him, curling around him torso so as to protect it from further attack.

"Don't make me take your arm off," Odd growled back. Ulrich made a noise of disbelief.

"As if you could."

"Don't tempt me." Grinning, Ulrich turned and started off along the castle's inner wall, the pair having emerged from the doors at the very end of the 'T' shaped building; the lower floor of the building's base housing the dining hall. It only took them a short walk to reach one the archways in the wall, through which they passed into the lower bailey. Across the courtyard, the boys could see that Michel already had his class assembled, what looked like a half dozen young teens gathered by his stables.

"You ready to go be teacher for a day?" Ulrich asked playfully. Odd sent him a dark look.

"You won't be laughing when I knock you off your horse," he grumbled back. Ulrich raised an eyebrow at him.

"Who said anything about me being the one who got knocked off of their horse?" Ulrich asked indignantly.

"You did," Odd said with a grin, "Back when you lost that race yesterday."

"I can't be serious," Ulrich deadpanned.

"I can, actually," Odd responded. "And I am. I hope you brushed up on your falling technique, you're going to need it." Ulrich narrowed his eyes at the back of Odd's head as the blonde marched off ahead of him, and was just preparing to aim a punch at his companion when Michel called out to them.

"Stern, Della Robbia, so nice of you to join us this morning," he greeted, grinning broadly at the young men as they reached his stables.

"Hey Michel," Odd grumbled. "This them?" he asked, motioning to the group of teenagers gathered, all looking to be about fourteen and fifteen.

"Yup," Michel said, nodding. "Class, meet today's instructors—Ulrich Stern and Odd Della Robbia." The class muttered their hellos, all staring up at Odd and Ulrich with looks akin to awe. It made Ulrich feel a little nervous.

"Today, class," Michel continued, "You will be learning how to dismount an opponent on horseback. Stern and Della Robbia here will demonstrate for you, and then you will go in pairs and try it for yourselves."

Quite muttering broke out among the group as students eyed their partners, sizing one another up as if judging how dangerous they thought their companion really was. Behind them, Michel was leading two of the horses out of their stalls and over to Odd and Ulrich.

"Any preference?" he asked as he presented the pair with the animals.

"Hmm." Odd hesitated; his gaze shifting between the two creatures. The first was a great black brute. It caught the blonde's eye and snorted, pawing at the ground. Odd frowned, quickly shifting his attention to the other horse. This one, a light tawny color, was smaller than the first, and seemed a little more demure. "Him," Odd decided, pointing to the smaller horse.

"Her," Michel corrected, handing Odd the reigns.

"Whatever," Odd responded, moving around to the horse's side. Slipping one foot into the stirrup, he heaved himself up over top the horse. The animal snorted, shaking its head and stepping to the side as Odd dropped down into the saddle. "Stop that," Odd told it sharply, giving the reigns a sharp tug.

"Eloquent," Ulrich deadpanned as he trotted past Odd.

"No one asked you," Odd huffed. Ulrich flashed him a grin, and then pointed to the castle's north wall. "You go stand over there," he said, "and I'll go that way." Ulrich pointed over his shoulder in the opposite direction.

"Yes sir," Odd said, saluting Ulrich. The brunet rolled his eyes, turning his horse away and trotting off across the courtyard. Grinning, Odd trotted off in the other direction. When he reached the wall he turned back around to face Ulrich. His friend waved at him. Odd scowled in return. He then adjusted his position, shifting so that only the toes of his boots were in the stirrups and he was sitting forward in the saddle, leaning down over the horse's neck.

"Ready?" Michel called from where he stood with his students.

"Of course!" Odd shouted.

"Yes," Ulrich called.

"When you're ready," Michel told them. The pair nodded, and then proceeded to stare each other down.

It was Ulrich who made the first move, sending his horse forward with a shout. Grinning, Odd kicked his own horse into gear. The creature's hooves pounded the courtyard ground as he thundered toward the other boy. Shifting his weight, Odd released the reigns with one of his hands, pulling back and curling it into a fist, prepared to strike. Jerking the reigns so that the horse darted to the side of Ulrich's, the two animals pulled even and Odd let his punch fly.

Having clearly expected the attack, Ulrich rocked to the side to avoid the flying fist. In the same movement his leg swung up in a kick that connected solidly with Odd's chest. The impact knocked Odd from his saddle and sent him tumbling backwards over the back of his horse. He landed in the dirt on his back with a dull _thud_.

The collection of students cheered as Odd blinked up at the sky. His horse, realizing it had lost its rider, turned about and shuffled back over to the blonde, coming to a stop beside the prone boy and leaning its head down to stare at him.

"What do you want?" Odd asked it hotly, scowling. The horse snorted at him.

"Need a hand?" Odd's scowl deepened.

"No," he barked, rolling to his feet as Ulrich approached. "I thought we agreed _I_ was going to be knocking _you_ off of the horse."

"Did we?" Ulrich asked innocently.

"Very good you two," Michel said, walking over to the pair. He clapped Odd on the shoulder. "Would you mind showing us that again, a little slower? I want to point out some things to the kids."

"Certainly," Ulrich told him.

"Thanks," Michel said before returning to his class.

"Suck up," Odd hissed as he scrambled back onto his horse.

"At least I didn't get knocked off my horse." Odd narrowed his eyes as he pulled his horse around to face Ulrich, shifting so that he was back in the same position he had been before he was dislodged.

"See here," Michel said to his class, immediately pointing out Odd's foot placement. "You'll find most of your mounted fighters riding like this, with as little of the foot in the stirrup as possible. This is to avoid getting your foot caught in the stirrup when you're hit, so you don't get dragged by your horse. It can also make it easier to knock someone out of their saddle, as Stern demonstrated."

The class snickered while Odd threw Ulrich a dark look. 'What?' Ulrich mouthed. Odd gave him a quick 'you know what' glare back.

"Stern," Michel barked, getting both boys' attentions. "Could you show us again that kick of yours?"

"I can," Ulrich answered, turning towards Odd. He trotted his horse over until the two were side-by-side, and then leaned away from Odd, sticking his leg straight out so that it hovered in front of Odd. The blonde narrowed his eyes at the appendage, prompting Ulrich to kick him lightly in the chest.

"As you can see, this position serves two purposes," Michel pointed to Ulrich, "he can both dodge Odd's punch and retaliate in the same move." Grinning, Odd leaned towards Ulrich, trying to punch the brunet in the head. Ulrich wrinkled his nose and snapped at the boy's fist with his teeth.

"As I'm sure you can tell, I've brought some of our most skilled assassins to come train you lot," Michel deadpanned at the pair, to his class's amusement. Odd and Ulrich sat back upright in their saddles, doing their best to look like innocent, well behaved young men.

Judging by the increase in the giggle from the peanut gallery, they weren't succeeding. Michel rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Odd and Ulrich.

"Would you two mind running through that again? I don't think everyone was paying—"

"Excuse me."

Michel paused mid-sentence, turning to stare at the young man who had appeared by his side.

"Hey, Ulrich," Odd hissed in a stage whisper. "It's the local messenger pigeon." Herve flashed Odd a dirty look and then returned his attention to Michel.

"The leader would like to see Stern and Della Robbia," he informed the stable master. "Are you done with them?"

"I suppose I am," Michel said, glancing at the two boys in question. They shrugged, neither one sure of why the leader would want to talk to them again this morning. They quickly dismounted their steeds and handed them off to two of the awaiting students, and then began to jog across the courtyard in the direction of the northwest tower.

"Do you think this is about the vial we gave him yesterday?" Odd asked curiously as they passed through the archway. Ulrich shrugged, and then scowled as he was forced to slow down to maneuver through the small throng of people exiting the dining hall and flooding the main bailey. "Maybe the information in it is faulty," Odd suggested.

"And maybe we will find out when we get there," Ulrich responded, finally weaving his way out of the crowd, Odd on his heels. The blonde reached forward, resting a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. "What?" Ulrich asked.

"Are you okay?" Odd asked, his tone more somber than it had been moments ago.

"Yeah Odd," Ulrich answered. "It's just…strange for the leader to want to talk to us again this soon after a mission."

"Maybe he wants to send us out again," Odd suggested as he and Ulrich started walking again.

"Maybe," Ulrich agreed. "It would be odd for him to have us do two so close together, though; especially with how top secret the last one was."

"He could just want to tell us we did a good job."

Ulrich turned his head and stared at Odd.

"What?" the blonde asked. "Too farfetched?"

"Way too far," Ulrich agreed. Odd grinned at him.

"I can always hope."

"'Hope' being the key word," Ulrich teased. Odd pulled a face at him.

"You know, the world won't stop because you chose not to stomp all over my hopes and dreams," he told his companion sourly. Ulrich let out a bark of laughter, clapping a hand on Odd's shoulder. He opened his mouth, as if to say something to the blonde, then lowered his hand and continued into the tower, still laughing. Blowing a raspberry at his companion's back, Odd scurried after Ulrich.

They didn't race up the stairs this time, instead choosing a more leisurely, and normal, pace; allowing them a little more time to contemplate what it could be that the leader wanted them for. For one worried moment, Ulrich feared that he and Odd might have broken one of the codes while on their mission. While Ulrich didn't think he would be punished for it, he was sure that the leader wouldn't approve of his slaughtering the rotund aristocrat. After all, they were only to kill their targets, and anyone who could pose an honest threat to their small society. Ulrich wasn't quite sure that the older gentleman had been either.

And then Ulrich ran out of time to ponder, as the trapdoor suddenly appeared before his face, sitting open, as if beckoning him into the small library like office above. Ulrich hesitated for the briefest of moments, suddenly worried about what was about to take place within the circular walls of that office. A nudge from behind from Odd broke that line of thought, and got Ulrich moving again. With the faintest of trepidation, Ulrich stepped up and into the office.

To Ulrich's surprise, it wasn't the Leader who was waiting for them at the other side of the rounded library.

"Ulrich?" Aelita asked, flashing the brunet a surprised look.

"What are you doing here?" Jeremy asked, adjusting his glasses.

"We could ask you the same," Odd said, stepping around from behind Ulrich. He winked when he saw Aelita. The pink haired girl rolled her eyes good naturedly in return.

"We just got a message that the Leader wanted to see us," Ulrich said, shrugging slightly. "We weren't told why."  
"The same thing happened to us," Aelita said. She glanced at the empty desk behind her. "We got here a few minutes ago, but the Leader wasn't here yet." Jeremy nodded in agreement with her words.

"What do you think he wants?" Odd asked the pair. They looked at one another and shrugged.

"We assumed a mission," Jeremy said, looking slightly baffled. "But I wouldn't expect him to send you two out so soon after your last mission."

"And normally, I wouldn't," a new voice said, drifting across from the far right. The assembled assassins spun around to see the Leader making his way down a narrow staircase that clung to the library office's wall, at the top of which was a small opening leading into the room above. "But a situation as arisen that requires I send out only the most skilled among us."

Odd stood a little straighter, before an elbow to his shin had him dropping respectfully to one knee, as the others had done. The elderly man laughed softly as he reached the group.

"You may rise," he told them as he passed. As one, they returned to their feet, exchanging subtle glances as the Leader took a seat behind his desk. "Della Robbia, Stern, I know you have only just returned from your last mission, but I again require your services. An imminent threat to our brethren has recently emerged, and I hope to cut it off now, before it grows into a power we are unable to stop."

Ulrich struggled to not flash Odd an anxious look. As a collection of assassins, they tended to be an unpopular group among those who knew they might be on someone's hit list; and as such had received many threats against themselves in the past. However, never had there been one that posed an honest threat to their way of life. Judging by the way the Leader was acting, it looked like this was about to change.

"I want Belpois and Stones to accompany you," the Leader continued, nodding his head towards the pair. "This mission requires a certain level of finesse that I feel is best suited to the methods of a stealthier assassin. I would prefer that the body count remained as low as possible."

Ulrich scowled as Odd struggled to hide a snicker by clearing his throat. Beside him, Aelita straightened a little, obviously also taking amusement in the Leader's comments concerning Odd and Ulrich's less then neat and tidy work.

"Your target will be heavily guarded within the castle in the city of Carthage. Stern and Della Robbia, it will be your job to get Stones and Belpois inside the castle walls, and to protect them from any guards who might try to stop them. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," the group chorused. The Leader looked over the rim of his glasses at the four assassins, as if judging the honesty of their responses. After a minute he nodded once to himself.

"I need you to be ready as quickly as possible," the Leader instructed. "Fetch horses from Michel and the maps you'll need from Emily at the front gate. Ride straight through until you reach the town. Rest for the night; staying out of the town until morning. Get you bearings during the daylight hours, strike that night, and then come straight back, riding through until morning." He paused, giving each of the assassins a pointed look.

"There is a very good chance that, even without being spotted, a large armed guard will be scouring the woods soon after your target's death. You need to be out of the area as quickly as possible so as to limit casualties." Again, the Leader turned his gaze on Odd and Ulrich. "You are only to kill guards if absolutely necessary."

"Yes sir," the pair said again.

"You have your mission," the Leader announced. "Go and prepare. I expect to see you riding away from these walls very soon."

Bowing, the quartet turned and walked towards the opening in the floor across the other side of the room, which would take them down from the tower. They kept their pace measured as they approached it, each climbing down through the opening slowly, one at a time. Then, as soon as the last person had cleared the trapdoor, the group broke out into a run.

Sprinting down the spiraling staircase, the group vaulted back and forth across the gaping opening at the center of the tower, making the decent as quickly as possible. As soon as they reached the ground they burst out from the door at the tower's base, running across the open courtyard.

"Don't you need to get to your room?" Jeremy asked as they hurried across into the lower bailey.

"Nope," Odd answered. "Unlike some people, we always travel prepared."

"Odd," Aelita said, giving the blonde a shove that almost sent him careening off balance. "We all know that you needed your weapons for the class you helped teach today."

"Does _everyone_ know about that?" Odd shouted in exasperation. The pink haired girl grinned.

"Milly and Tamia told me about it."

"Curse them," Odd hissed halfheartedly, no real venom in his words.

A few years younger than Odd and Ulrich, Milly and Tamia were known among their small community of assassins for being quick, stealthy, and brilliant at gathering information necessary to planning and preparing missions. But even more so, they were known as the not so official heads of the even less official community grape vine.

There was very little that the two girls missed when it came to the lives of the assassins within the ancient castle's walls. Many a complaint had arisen against the girls concerning their wealth of social and private knowledge regarding their companions; but every grievance was rebuffed by an amused Leader, who claimed that if the assassins couldn't figure out how the pair was gathering their information and stop them themselves, then they had no right to complain.

And apparently, they had used their magnificent abilities to check in on an unsuspecting Odd and Ulrich.

"How do they know all of this stuff?" Odd asked, looking over at his partner. "We only got back yesterday evening!"

"Jealous?" Ulrich teased, deciding to use the moment to poke fun at his friend rather than admit that the girls had him stumped as well.

"No," Odd shot back petulantly.

"Yes you are," Ulrich said, grinning slyly.

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"If you two don't cut it out, I'm making you both stay out here," Jeremy warned, scowling at the pair over his shoulder. Odd blew a raspberry at him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're no fun?" Odd asked him.

"Yes," Jeremy responded flatly. "You." Odd broke out in a grin.

"It's what I do."

Shaking his head, Jeremy returned his attention forward, towards the castle's north east corner, where a small tower sat nestled between the adjoining outer walls. Rising up from the small turret atop the tower was a thin chimney, which was currently spewing a stream of violet smoke. A small, thick stone door was set into the tower's base.

"I shouldn't have to remind you both of this every time you come in, but I do, and I will," Jeremy said, grabbing the door's metal handle. "Don't. Touch. Anything."

"Psh," was Odd's response. Ulrich rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't me who broke that…whatever it was last time we were here," the brunet defended, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It was a graduated cylinder," Aelita told him. "And the chemical inside of it ate a small hole through the lab's floor."

"Which we still haven't had time to fix," Jeremy chimed in, "So if you would be so kind as to not add any more holes; it would be appreciated."

"Sure thing Jer," Odd said, crossing his arms behind his back and grinning. Aelita rolled her eyes, flashing Ulrich a 'yeah, right' look as she passed by the pair. She thanked Jeremy, who was holding the door open for her, and entered the tower. Ulrich and Odd followed after her, Jeremy muttering a quick "touch _nothing_" as they passed.

Like with the tower to the Leader's library, the inside of this smaller tower was ringed with stairs built from the wall. The quartet ascended them quickly, passing up through a trapdoor in the ceiling and into a smaller version of the Leader's circular office room. Unlike the Leader's library this room, while containing a few shelves of books, was populated mostly with stone tables, each covered with a collection of glass vials, beakers, and bowls, all filled with liquids and powders and crystals of varying colors. They were interspersed with random measuring tools, and the occasional open book.

And in the floor near a table in the center of the room was a small hole, about the size of a fist. Odd grinned sheepishly when he saw it.

"I'll be right back," Aelita told the trio of boys before darting across the room, where a narrow wooden ladder was propped against the wall. Aelita scrambled up it, vanishing through an opening in the ceiling to a room up above. Odd watched her until she was out of sight, and then turned his attention to the other blonde in the room, who was currently rummaging through a shelf of various sized bottles and jars against the curving wall. He picked a few of the bottles from the shelf and carried them across the room to where Aelita was sliding back down the ladder. She held two bags in her hands.

"Here you are," she said, holding out one of the bags to Jeremy. He flashed her a quick smile, dumping his armful of jars into the bag and then taking it off the girl. She kept the second bag, slinging it over her shoulder and she and Jeremy walked back over to where Odd and Ulrich were waiting.

"What did I tell you?" Jeremy asked when he noticed Odd crouched down, peering at a bulbous container of a purplish colored liquid, inside of which was floating something vaguely worm like.

"Don't make any more holes in the floor?" Odd tried, straightening with a start. Jeremy gave him a flat look, which Odd attempted to fend off with a grin. Noticing that it wasn't working to make his fellow blonde look any less annoyed, Odd glanced over at the table he was standing beside, and then took a step away from it. "Better?" he asked.

"Not really," Jeremy told him. Aelita laughed.

"Come on you two," she said, grabbing Jeremy's hand and leading him towards the room's floor level exit.

"Yes ma'am," Odd said, saluting the pink haired girl. Though, once she had passed him he dropped his hand, allowing his shoulders to slump.

"What?" Ulrich muttered to him, giving the shorter boy a confused look.

"Nothing," Odd muttered back. Ulrich snorted.

"Liar." It didn't exactly require a lot of detective work for him to notice the way Odd was pouting at Jeremy and Aelita's cupped hands.

"It's nothing," Odd repeated more emphatically as he followed after the pair.

"Sure, sure," Ulrich responded, rolling his eyes as he fell into step behind his partner.

As soon as the quartet was back within the castle's courtyard they picked up their pace, trotting over to Michel's stable. The stable keeper was waiting for them, four horses already out and waiting. Odd recognized the two animals he and Ulrich had been teaching on earlier that day, and he quickly made a beeline for the familiar tawny female before any of the others could snatch it up.

"Did you make a new friend?" Ulrich teased lightly as Odd scrambled onto the horse's saddle.

"Shut it," Odd told him simply. He then leaned down over the horse's neck, patting its shoulder and muttering a quick, "Ignore him. He's just jealous."

"Not even in the _horse's _dreams," Ulrich assured him, pointedly avoiding his own earlier mount, so as to not receive any taunts from Odd. Not that he honestly expected the tactic to work.

"What, did you two get into a tiff?" Odd asked as Ulrich chose instead the gray horse at the end of the group. The brunet scowled as he tossed his leg over the saddle.

"Shut it."

"Thanks Michel," Aelita said, ignoring the bickering pair in favor of the chuckling stable keeper as he offered her the smallest horse, a slender brown and white pinto.

"Any time, Miss Stones," Michel said politely. "Anything to make your trip a little easier. If I could get you some nicer company, I would," he added, rolling his eyes towards Ulrich and Odd, who were currently attempting to kick one another from their horses.

"If only," Jeremy said, climbing onto Ulrich's abandoned black horse. "We should be back in a few days," he told the stable keeper. "And we'll make sure Odd doesn't lose his horse."

"If you could actually keep him from losing one of my animals, I'd be forever in your debt," Michel told him gravely. "I would also be interested in where you learned such magic." Ulrich and Aelita exploded with laughter at the man's words. Beside Ulrich, Odd scowled, and then kicked the brunet in the shin.

"I'm not that bad," he whined. Michel let out a bark of laugher.

"Not that bad, he says," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he walked away. Odd pouted, turning to look at Ulrich.

"You know, I don't _always _lose horses." Ulrich raised an eyebrow at him, then simply shook his head and turned his horse in the direction of the main gate. Jeremy rolled his eyes when Odd turned his pout his way, and trotted after Ulrich.

"Well, _I_ know you don't always lose them," Aelita assured the blonde, walking her horse up beside his as they followed their partners. Odd smiled

"Thanks Aelita," he told her sincerely. Aelita smiled back.

"You just…misplace them, that's all."

"…Thanks Aelita," Odd huffed. Aelita's smile grew.

"I try my best." Odd rolled his eyes, although he was grinning as Aelita caught his eye.

They looked at one another for a long moment, and then simultaneously burst into laughter. Odd gasped a few times to get his breathing back under control as their laughter died down, while Aelita reached up to rub at slightly tearing eyes. She sighed, smiling at Odd.

"I'm sorry Odd," she said, while visibly fighting back a smile. "I shouldn't make fun of your thing with horses."

"It's not a _thing_," Odd automatically replied. "And it's no problem. Everyone needs to laugh at themselves once in a while, right?" Odd paused, a thoughtful look overtaking his features. "You know, Ulrich should try it some time. Maybe it would make him less of a hard—"

"Hard what, exactly?" Ulrich interrupted, appearing beside the blonde. Odd jumped, turning in his saddle to glare at his friend.

"Hard headed," Odd supplied. "Which is why you didn't notice that this is a _private_ conversation."

"Oh gee, I'm so sorry for interrupting," Ulrich drawled, not a hint of contriteness in his voice. "I'll just leave you two love birds to it then." Odd glared at Ulrich, fighting back the faintest of blushes as Ulrich winked at him and then trotted off; frustrated both with his partner and the fact that he turned red with any and all mentions of Aelita, himself, a relationship between the two.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled to Aelita, continuing to glare at Ulrich's back as he joined Jeremy at the gate, where Emily was waiting to greet them. As they followed her across the first drawbridge into the barbican, Odd cleared his throat, checking to make sure that the trio ahead of them was far enough away so as to not pick up on what he was about to say to Aelita.

"So, umm, Aelita," he began awkwardly, "do you and Jeremy have any, er, plans after the mission?"

"Plans?" Aelita repeated, giving Odd a confused sideways glance. Odd nodded.

"Yeah, uh, you know. Like, maybe a date or, you know…something?" Aelita blinked, turning her full attention to Odd.

"A…date?" Odd grimaced and nodded. "No," Aelita answered slowly. "Why? Should I?"

"No, no!" Odd said quickly, "It's just that, you know, I was going to ask, but I thought I should know first if, I mean, I know it's not my business or anything but if you and…and then yeah, I wouldn't really need to ask but, uh—"

"Odd," Aelita barked, cutting off Odd's rambling. "What is it you want to ask me?" Odd blinked, and then gulped, suddenly nervous.

"Well, I was wondering if, after the mission, you might want to, I don't know, have dinner with me?" Aelita raised a delicately curved eyebrow.

"Odd, we all eat dinner together in the dining hall. But," she continued quickly, cutting Odd off before he could start o speak, "I know what you mean. And, well, I—"

"Odd, Aelita!" Ulrich shouted, cutting the pink haired girl off. The pair looked forward to see Jeremy and Ulrich waiting at the barbican's exit, where the second drawbridge was being lowered down over the gap between the castle and the forest. "Are you two coming or not?"

"Yeah, yeah," Odd called, he and Aelita trotting their horses forward just as the drawbridge finished lowering. "Did you get the map?" he asked Ulrich.

"Right here," the brunet answered, holding up a folded piece of paper.

"Don't worry, you're all set," Emily assured the blonde. "I'll see you lot in a few days!"

Waving a quick goodbye, the group as one kicked their horses into motion, bolting out across the drawbridge and onto the path shadowing the forests edge, making sure they took a route which would be seen by the Leader from up in his library office.

"Odd!" Aelita shouted, pulling her horse up beside Odd's, the pair running side by side.

"What?" Odd shouted back.

"I'd love to join you for dinner!"

Odd stared, eyes wide, as Aelita smiled at him. Then, with a shout, Aelita pushed her horse forward, galloping up to run beside Jeremy. Odd followed her with his eyes, still dumbstruck.

He was eventually pulled from his stupor by the sound of laughter to his left. Looking over, he found Ulrich galloping beside him.

"What?" he shouted at the still laughing brunet. Ulrich response was the shake his head, still laughing, before hurrying to join Jeremy and Aelita.

But not before explaining to Odd the source of his amusement with a whip cracking sound and a flick of his wrist.

Odd's scowl and attempted kick only made the situation that much funnier for the brown haired assassin, who simply continued to laugh.


	4. The Lioness Hunt

**Ha! See? Kitty didn't foget to update today. Introducing the character that I'm sure all of you who are reading this (the two of you know who you are) have been wondering about. Also, another character you might have wondered about, one you probably briefly considered, one you likely didn't think about at, and one you might very well have forgot was in the show at all. And so, off with you. Go meet these vaguely hinted at characters, and enjoy.**

* * *

Long, dark shadows reached out from the bases of the building's ornamental pillars, stretching like long inky fingers across the wide marble hall. A fleeting smudge of black darted across the line of shadows, moving like smoke down the corridor, soundlessly. In a silent, graceful sprint, the dark clad figured flashed down the hallway. At the hall's end the figure skidded to a nearly noiseless stop, dark eyes turning up towards the unnecessarily tall double doors that separated her from the room beyond.

Tucking a lock of short black hair behind her ear, the slender woman eyed the heavy oak doors, her ebony eyes tracing the carvings of vines, flowers, and birds, all covered in a delicate layer of thin gold foil and silver filigree. A few of the flowers were inlayed with large colored stones, pinks and greens and yellows that glinted faintly in the pale moon light filtering into the hall. The woman shook her head at the profligacy before stepping forward; curling her fingers around one of the door's sculpted silver handles.

"Halt!" a sudden voice from behind barked. The woman stilled, one eyebrow arching as the faintest of smiles tugged the corner of her lips.

"Don't move!" the man behind her shouted. The woman ducked her head slightly, he smile growing. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, her grip on the door handle loosening as she listened to the man shifting nervously behind her.

"Alright now, I want you to turn around slowly and face me," the guard commanded.

The woman's reaction was lightning-quick, her hand darting to her belt as she spun pirouette style towards the guard. Her arm shot out straight and the guard stumbled back, letting out a wet, choking sound. He stood for a moment, staring at the woman, before dropping to his knees and then collapsing to the ground.

Dark eyes unblinking, the woman watched the fallen guard for a long moment before stepping towards him. Kneeling down, she rolled his body over, revealing the hilt of a knife protruding from his neck. Eyes narrowing, the woman pulled the weapon from its bloody sheath. With a frown she wiped it against the man's clothes and then, after inspecting it closely, she stood and tucked it back into her belt, where it joined a row of identical weapons.

Turning back towards the door, the woman again approached the towering entryway. Wrapping willowy fingers around the door's handle, the woman pulled the heavy door slowly towards her.

A murky darkness stretched on beyond the opening, opaque and oppressive when compared to the faintly lit hallway at the woman's back. Eyes narrowing ever so slightly, the woman stepped forward into the dark room, pulling the elaborate door shut behind her.

For one long moment she was blind in the al encompassing blackness that met her beyond the door. And then, slowly, points of light began to make themselves known and then, as her eyes adjusted, they began to reveal the rest of the room.

The woman was standing at the head of a large bedroom, encompassed between far spread walls, a high vaulted ceiling, and an expanse of marble flooring, which glittered even in the room's abysmal lighting. The darkness was revealed to be caused by the thick velvet curtains draped across the wide bay windows inset within the walls not over taken by the extravagant door.

And in the middle of the room, set upon a raised square platform made of yet more marble and below a gargantuan silver chandelier, was a truly colossal four poster bed, swathed in the same thick velvet curtains as the windows. The woman smirked at the sight of the bed, pulling one of the knives from her belt and twirling it between her fingers as she started to pad softly towards it.

Hidden behind the burgundy crushed velvet curtains was, as the woman had been informed, a virtuous minded young noble who had, as of late, begun making a pest of himself among the community of Carthage. Suddenly grasped by a recently acquired righteous vigor, the young man had taken to preaching loudly and frequently on any and all injustices he believed the king was dumping upon the heads of his people.

While the general consensus was that King Delmas was a wise, fair, and benevolent king, there were those people who had at one time or another attempted and failed to bribe the grand king into doing something or other in their favor. These disgruntled men and women had begun flocking to this young noble, amassing a gathering that could, if left unchecked, pose quite a crisis for the royal family.

So, under the cover of night, the king had sent a messenger to the young woman, known for both her skill and artistry within her skill set, asking that she assist the family in removing this every growing thorn in their side. Although she was no supporter of the royal family, indeed she was well known for her lack of opinion on the matter of the ruling class, the pay they offered was substantial, and the job seemed to carry with it the level of difficulty that the woman generally found more to her taste.

After scaling one high guard wall, crossing an orchard thick with the sweet scent of blossoms, climbing to a third floor hallway, and dispatching a half dozen guards in the process; the woman had now arrived within the young noble's bedroom, where he was undoubtedly fast asleep, curled about his lovely little wife and lost within dreams of false safety and grandeur.

The woman wondered idly if he had so much as the faintest of inklings concerning his impending demise.

Reaching forward with her free hand, the woman tore the bed's impractical curtain—really, how could you ever hear someone approaching through all of that material?—away from the sleeping couple. The motion was met with a startled intake of breath from the bed, the sudden noise jerking the bed's occupants into wakefulness.

The woman watched with barely hidden disdain as the young man unwrapped himself from his wife, blinking owlishly as he attempted to see through the darkness and discern what had awoken him. It was the wife however, who spotted the assassin standing at the side of their bed, haloed by the faint light coming from the bay window behind her. She brushed blonde curls from her eyes, attempting to get a better look at her late night visitor.

A scream tore from her lips the moment she realized it was not a member of her house staff perched beside the bed. The dark haired woman frowned at the piercing sound, her arm darting up and wrist flicking with the same kind of speed she had used on the guard outside the doors.

The blonde's scream cut off abruptly, her eyes crossing to look up at the knife hilt protruding from her forehead as she tumbled over the side of the bed, landing out of sight with a muffled thump.

The man stared at the place where his wife had been, and then at the dark haired woman, his eyes impossibly wide with fright. He was gasping so hard he was practically hyperventilating, sweat pouring down his body as he shook with fear. Slowly, a strong, unpleasant scent began to fill the room, and the woman crooked an eyebrow, glancing at the growing patch of wet in the man's sheets.

"Lovely," she muttered, reaching for a second knife. The man whimpered, scrambling suddenly against his sea of silk bed sheets in a vain attempt at escape. He didn't get far before he, too, was impaled on the blade of the woman's knife. For a moment he sat still, staring up at the dark haired woman. Then, slowly, his eyes turned down to look at the knife protruding from his chest as he slumped over and went still.

"Much too easy," the woman muttered as she stepped away from the bed, padding slowly around to its other side, where the wife lay crumpled on the floor. She retrieved her weapons from the pair, cleaning them on the expensive looking sheets before tucking them back into her belt. She then turned to walk away but then stopped, a contemplative look crossing her features. Slowly, she turned back to face the bed, her eyes alighting on the plush piece of furniture's tall, dark cherry wood headboard.

The woman pulled a knife slowly from her belt and began to twirl it between her fingers, a smile ghosting her lips.

* * *

Warm wind blew her hair from her face as the dark eyed woman sprinted across the manor's sprawling apple orchard. The trees were in full bloom, clusters of white and pink flowers filling the air with their thick, heady perfume. The woman ran until she reached the end of the trees, which was marked by a tall guard wall. Without losing momentum, she sprinted up one of the trees right beside the wall, scaling gracefully into its branches. She then bounded onto the guard wall, with a leap a ballerina would be jealous of, and dove down from the top of the wall to the ground below.

Landing with a roll, the woman popped up in a defensive crouch, dark eyes scanning the narrow lane she had landed in for any sign of guards or other passersby. But the only company she had out on the desolate packed earth road was the night sky. And the two guards slumped against the wall behind her, both displaying the tell tale signs that said they had been visited by the knife wielding assassin.

Rising smoothly to her feet, the woman gave both men a quick salute before jogging off down the road. She followed the guard wall until it ended, giving way to clusters of smaller houses. Scrambling up the side of one house, the woman shifted her travels from the road to the rooftops, leaping nimbly between thatched and red tiled roofs. She could see her destination looming up ahead, it's stone façade glowing silver in the light of the night's full moon.

Picking up her pace, the woman flew across the rooftops of the city of Carthage, darting around chimneys and soaring over alleyways and small yards. She let a grin spread across her face as her head was blow back, spreading her arms as she leapt across a wide alley. There was nothing, in her mind, that was quite as invigorating as traveling through the sky above the city.

Soon the houses began to thin out, eventually coming to a stop completely a few dozen yards away from the woman's final destination—the towering grey castle looming ahead of her, which served as home Carthage's king, King Delmas.

Leaping from the final roof, the woman landed with a skid in the wide road that bordered the moat wrapped snuggly around the castle's walls. Moving at a leisurely pace, the woman walked towards the castle, angling herself so that she was heading for the castle's ornate barbican; the short, thick tower that housed the drawbridge that would, when lowered, connect the castle to the rest of the city.

As she drew closer, the woman was able to make out the dark shape of a person standing just to the side of the barbican, leaning nonchalantly against the defensive building. One of his hands rested on the hilt of the sword sheathed at his belt.

"Good evening," he called softly when the woman was close enough to hear. "Wonderful weather tonight, don't you think?"

"Hello General," the woman greeted stiffly, coming to a stop a few feet away from the hulking man. He laughed roughly at her curt tone.

"No need to be too friendly, Miss. Ishiyama," he taunted. The woman frowned.

"Just call me Yumi," she told him. The man quirked an eyebrow.

"That's a bit casual for a woman as formal as yourself," he observed. "Don't like being addressed by your surname?"

"My payment?" the woman, Yumi, asked, rather than answer the question. The man laughed again.

"Always to the point, you assassins," he barked. Yumi kept her expression carefully neutral, doing her best to hide her disdain for him.

This man had been the one with whom she had arranged the night's assassination. He was the highest ranking member of the Carthage Royal Army, as displayed by his elaborate uniform and collection of ribbons and metals. However, Yumi found him to be an all together unpleasant man; all sinewy, bulging muscle and unkempt, thick black hair. His teeth were an unhealthy yellow and chipped, and he spoke with the barest hint of a course accent that Yumi couldn't place. But easily his most unnerving feature was his eyes. No one knew for sure how or why they were the color they were, only that their shiny red irises were easily the most unnatural thing anyone had ever seen.

No one was sure exactly of the general's true name. Ever since his arrival in Carthage, he had simply gone by the name Xana.

"Here you are, missy," Xana said, holding out a decent sized brown sack. It jingled with the weight of the coins that filled it. "Your payment."

"It's all here?" Yumi asked, eyeing the sack and doing her best to guess at the amount of coins inside.

"Do you think I would try and cheat you?" Xana asked with yet another laugh. "I'd be crazy to try and rip off the best killer in the city, now wouldn't I?" Yumi took the outstretched bag.

"You would."

"So," Xana drawled, as Yumi weighed the bag with her hand. "Am I safe in assuming that the job is done?" Yumi glanced up, meeting his red eyed gaze and frowning again.

"You are also crazy for believing I would leave a job unfinished." She then turned and darted across the street, vanishing into the shadows of the houses, the sound of Xana's raucous laughter fading into the night behind her.

Yumi waited until she was securely tucked away between two tall homes, which leaned into one another over top of the narrow alley she had ducked down, to stop and check her payment. She pulled open the bag's drawstring slowly, a smile spreading across her face as she looked down on the pile of gold coins tucked away within the rough cloth. Though she greatly disliked the army general, Yumi could not deny that he paid well.

Still smiling, Yumi tucked the bag under her arm and took off again, sticking to the ground this time as she wove her way through a winding trail of alleyways and narrow lanes, ducking under clothes lines and through tiny front gardens as made her way through Carthage's residential area. She eventually emerged from the maze of homes, jogging out into an open, empty square; home to Carthage's early morning and weekend markets. Right now the stalls, all draped in an array of colorful cloths, stood empty and abandoned. But come morning, they would fill with men and women selling their wares, and the entire courtyard would become packed with bodied purchasing all of the food and tools they would need for the day.

Padding across the wide, cobbled space, Yumi skirted the marketplace's large ornate fountain, which gurgled softly in the night and sprayed a fine cloudy mist over top the heads of those who sat around its base in the day time. Pausing around the other side of the fountain, Yumi hesitated a moment, glancing over her shoulder at the tall spire spewing water out into the wading pool below. A small smile flickering across her lips, she reached into the bag under her arm and withdrew a gold coin, which she tossed into the fountain. It landed with a wet _plop_ before sinking to the bottom, where it glittered in the starlit waters.

Continuing on to the other side of the other side of the courtyard, Yumi trotted along the row of shops that lined the market place, eyes trailing the stores' window displays as she walked. When she reached a shop whose window displayed an aged globe and an even older hand drawn map, Yumi turned and slipped through the shop's door, glancing up at the sign as she went it. It read "Gauthier's Maps".

A small bell chimed as the door opened, and again as it swung back shut, closing Yumi within small shop. The entire room spelled richly of ink, parchment, and wood; which made sense, since they seemed to be the only three materials in the room.

The entire shop was built of wood—hardwood floors, wooden walls, thick wooden beams across the wood ceiling. All of the shelves and cabinets that surrounded the room were made of thick, stained wood, as were all of the doors. And covering all of the shelves, stuffed into all of the cabinets, and piled in heaps on the floor was mounds of parchment paper, and bottles and bottles of various colored inks. The only uncluttered wall was the back wall, which had been adorned with an incredibly large and detailed map showing Carthage, the surrounding towns and villages, the woods in between, and the sea beyond. And below the map, sitting a wooden desk strewn with parchment, ink, and an assortment of drafting materials, was a young, brown haired man, squinting in the room's low lighting as he sketched.

"You'll ruin your eyes," Yumi told him simply as she walked past the desk.

"Low light makes for better maps," he responded. Yumi huffed, rolling her eyes as she crouched down in front of the cabinet behind the man's desk. Pulling it open, she rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a dozen long white candles, and a small box of matches. She then shut the cabinet, straightened back up, and proceeded to place the candles about the room at various, strategic locations, lighting each as she went.

"Do you mind?" the young man asked, blowing out a candle that Yumi placed on his desk.

"Theo," Yumi chastised, relighting the candle. "Leave it."

"You're running my work," Theo wined petulantly, however he left the candle be as he returned to his work.

"What are you doing this time?" Yumi asked curiously, sidling up beside Theo to take a look at his work.

"I was commissioned for a castle blueprint," Theo said, using a straightedge to sketch a few lines across the creamy paper. He paused for a moment, then made a small notation between two of them.

"By who?" Yumi asked, leaning her elbows on the desk. In the flickering orange light of the candles, she looked over the half finished blueprint spread across Theo's desk, weighted at each end with heavy glass pots of ink. Brow furrowing, she leaned over to grab the thick roll of parchment at the side of Theo's desk.

"You remember Franz Hopper, don't you?" Theo asked, still sketching.

"Mhm," Yumi hummed as she hefted the roll, taking a step back from Theo's desk and unrolling it. It was a large, heavily detailed blueprint, titled "Castle Carthage".

"He asked. He needed a blueprint for a few of his assassins."

"What for?" Yumi asked, glancing between the larger blueprint, and the one Theo was currently working on, trying to work out what part of the castle her companion was detailing now.

"He didn't say," Theo responded, glancing over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Are you working on the soldiers' quarters?" Yumi asked back, brow furrowing as she double checked the blueprints.

"I am," Theo answered. Yumi sighed, rolling up the parchment and setting it back beside Theo's desk.

"I'll never understand how you do that," she huffed. Theo grinned, eyes still on his work.

"It's a gift."

Theo was renowned, both within Carthage and with the multitude of travelers that passed through the city, for his remarkable map making skills. But it was not to this which Yumi was referring. Theo's other talent, which he reserved for his generally more underhanded clientele; revolved around his miraculous ability to, after only a single look at a blueprint, recreate it in its entirety back in his shop. A few years back, he had acquired a glimpse at the castle's proper blueprints, the ones not riddled with false entrances and pathways that didn't actually exist, which he had recreated perfectly later on, and had now pulled out to use as reference for this more detailed recreation of the requested section of the castle.

"How did it go?" Theo asked curiously, pulling Yumi from her silent admiration. She blinked, taking a moment to think of what it was Theo was asking about.

"It went well," she responded, realizing he meant her mission. "You were right. The blueprints you had were better. The ones General Xana lent me had a false bedroom on them." She didn't miss Theo's satisfied grin, and swatted him on the shoulder. "I wouldn't get too cocky if I was you," she warned, "I might happen to miss place your cut of the payment."

"You wouldn't," Theo responded.

"You sound pretty sure about that," Yumi told him. "How do you know I wasn't underpaid, and therefore have no plans of sharing?"

"You weren't underpaid, were you?" Theo asked seriously, turning to look at Yumi.

"No, I wasn't," Yumi assured him. She dropped her sack of coins onto Theo's desk with a grin. Theo's eyebrows rose as he leant forward to look inside the bag. "Not bad for a single nights work?" Yumi asked.

"Not bad at all," Theo responded. He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the coins, holding it up to the candle light to examine it. Rolling her eyes, Yumi snatched the bag off of Theo's desk and then reached in and pulled out a large handful of coins, which she dropped with a clatter across his current work in progress.

"Enjoy," she told him, shutting the bag and tucking it back under her arm.

"Many thanks, my blood thirsty friend," Theo responded with a nod. Yumi swatted him over the back of the head with a laugh, then turned towards the door set into the room's far back corner.

"Going to bed?" Theo asked when he noticed her heading for the door.

"Not yet," she answered, "Just going to put away my things." Theo nodded again, tossing a quick wave over his shoulder as he cleared his pile of coins out of the way and resumed working. Shaking her head at the boy's single minded work ethic, Yumi slipped through the doorway. She emerged into a narrow, closed in staircase, lit only by the small window at the top of the stairs.

She really should be going to bed, she told herself, as she scaled the steps two at a time. After all, it was well past midnight by now. However, by the time it took her to reach the top of the stairs, she had decided that she was still too keyed up to sleep just yet. She would just have to find something else to do with her time until she was tired.

At the top of the stairs, Yumi turned an abrupt right through an open doorway, and carried on down an even narrower hallway. Passing the first door on her right she reached the second, pushing it open and slipping inside.

The room she had entered was small, tucked up above Theo's shop with a little window that peered out over the marketplace and let in enough light to illuminate the little space. The furniture was sparse, a bed tucked in one corner and a dresser in the other. A chest sat against the wall beside the door, and a threadbare rug had been draped across what bit of the floor wasn't yet covered up.

Yumi first stepped over to the chest against the wall, kneeling down and lifting its heavy, groaning lid. Inside the chest was a collection of various items of value: bags similar to the one Yumi carried, handfuls of loose coins, a few pieces of scattered jewelry, and even a gold bar. The collection represented all of the money Yumi had collected and saved. Staring down at the collection, Yumi reached into her bag and took out a handful of coins, then dropped it in to join the others. She then shut the lid tightly over top of her savings.

Standing again, Yumi turned, taking the few steps needed to reach the dresser. She swiftly unbuckled her belt, with its row of sheathed knives, and set it upon the dresser before opening one of the drawers and rummaging about. Her search produced a white top, which she placed beside her weapons and belt. She then took a step back, grabbing the hem of her shirt, which was currently soaked with sweat and a little blood, and pulled it up over her head, tossing it to the floor before grabbing the clean blouse and pulling it on.

Feeling sufficiently refreshed in her clean top, Yumi spun a quick circle to check the room and then pocketed her handful of coins and headed back out of her small bedroom. After a short jog back along the hall and down the stairs, she was again emerging into Theo's warm, candle lit shop. Glancing to the left, she saw that her brown haired friend was still bent over the blueprint spread across his desk. He hadn't even paused in his work long enough to put away the coins Yumi had left him, which still sat together, pushed to the edge of the paper so Theo could continue working.

"Don't you ever take a break?" Yumi asked, making her leisurely way around to the front of the desk.

"Can't," Theo answered. "If I go do something else, then I forget what the blueprint looked like."

"So?" Yumi asked, "You have the original."

"It's the principal of it," Theo responded. Yumi rolled her eyes, stopping in front of Theo's desk and planting her hands against it, covering the spot where Theo was trying to draw a line. He glanced up at her, eyebrows raised.

"Really?" he asked.

"Come out and get a drink with me," she told him.

"I can't," Theo said.

"Yes you can," Yumi replied, crouching down so that she was eye level with him. Theo sighed, setting down his pencil and meeting her gaze.

"Yumi, I would love to go out with you tonight, I really would," he said, "But I honestly can't. My clients are coming tomorrow, and this needs to be finished by then. But once they come and get it," he added, "then I will go with you. Okay?"

"Alright," Yumi sighed, straightening back up. She turned and stalked towards the door, jingling the coins in her pocket as she went. The little bell above the entryway rang merrily as she pulled the door open. "You know where to find me if you change your mind," she told her still working friend. He responded with a small wave, eyes not leaving his work. Yumi shook her head, laughing as she stepped back into the night air.

Yumi chose to stick to the sidewalks as she began making her way down the street, rather than another jaunt through the alleyways, and she admired the shops she passed in the bright light of the stars. A tailor's shop, whose window display featured a cloth mannequin dressed in a ruffled white gown was followed by the butcher's shop, where a collection of the day's left over's hung from hooks in the window. The baker's was next, baskets filled with loaves of bread stacked in its windows. After that was a sweets shop, its windows piled high with glass jars stuffed full of colorful candies.

Turning onto a new street that led away from the market square, Yumi continued past a barber's shop, and then an old in, shut up full of sleeping guests. And on the inn's other side, separated from the tall building by a wide alleyway, was the place Yumi sought.

The pub was an ancient place, slowly rotting away under the weight of time. Its old timbers were stained dark from years of rain, sun, and smoke from the kitchens, and its windows were fogged with a film of grime, through which only vague outlines of people could be distinguished on a backdrop of dark yellow light. While to many in the city the small bar was considered a lowlife dump; to the more underhanded of Carthage's business men and women it was a welcome retreat, at any hour of the day or night. The pub's original name had long worn off of the building—now-a-days, its patrons simply called it "Rosa's".

Pushing open the heavy old door, Yumi stepped inside, sighing at the rush of warm air that engulfed her. There were very few people in the pub at such a late hour. A group of about half a dozen scrawny men, all caked in various layers of dirt, sat together at a table in the corner, shovels propped against the backs of their chairs. Yumi assumed they were some of the city's gravediggers, who were known as much for their pilfering from the dead as they were for laying them to rest. The only other person was a dark haired man sitting at the bar, nursing a mug of beer as he chatted softly to the bartender.

Heading for the bar, Yumi took a seat on one of the stools closest to the end. She smiled at the bartender when he looked over at her, the man muttering a quick 'one moment' to the person he was talking to, and then heading over to Yumi.

"What can I get you, love?" he asked, flashing Yumi a grin.

"Whatever you think it best tonight, Gaston," she responded, smiling back and sliding a coin across the counter.

"You got it darling," Gaston told her, taking the coin and biting it before tucking into the pocket of his apron, as he went about putting together Yumi's drink.

"Say, did you happen to hear about that young man they found?" Gaston asked as he worked. "Apparently they found a young noble guy dead a short while ago, him and his wife." Gaston paused in filling a mug to glance up at Yumi. "They said there was a fan carved into his headboard."

"Really?" Yumi asked, hoping that the friendly bartender would assume her surprise was at the man's death, and not that the body had already been found. She had thought it would be another few hours until her work was discovered.

"Sure enough," Gaston said, setting the mug down in front of her. "That killer's been busy, eh? Not someone you'd be caught sharing drinks with, is he?" he asked, giving Yumi a pointed look. He would have been a fool to not know the kind of company his patrons usually kept.

"You should know better than to ask me that, Gaston," Yumi responded. "I only keep the best of company."

"That you do," Gaston agreed with a laugh. "That Theo boy is a good kid." Yumi nodded in agreement, taking a sip of her drink.

"Mmm," she hummed, giving the drink a curious look. "What is this? It's delicious."

"The house ale," Gaston said, grinning proudly. "Enjoy."

"Thank you," Yumi said, taking another sip of the drink as Gaston walked away.

"Do you mind if I join you?" a new voice asked, pulling Yumi's attention away from her drink. Her eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of the man standing beside her. He was the dark haired man Gaston had been speaking with when she'd first come in.

"Not at all," Yumi said, motioning to the stool beside her with a tilt of her head. The man flashed her a smile.

"Thanks," he said, taking a seat facing Yumi. "I'm William, by the way. William Dunbar." Yumi eyed the man's outstretched hand warily, before giving it a quick shake.

"Yumi," she responded simply. William's smile widened.

"Hello Yumi," he said. "I hope you don't mind my curiosity, but what is as beautiful woman as yourself doing in a place like this?" he asked, motioning around the pub with a wave of his hand. Yumi glanced at her mug of ale, raising it slightly and waving it towards William.

"Drinking," she answered.

"Ah," William responded, nodding once. He turned so that he was sitting properly on his stool, gazing absently into the kitchen as he took a sip of his own drink. "So, I heard you and Gaston discussing The Fan," William said idly. The Fan was the name the people of Carthage had given Yumi, due to her distinctive trademark.

"So?" Yumi asked. William shrugged.

"Just seemed a bit of a gory topic for such a lovely woman to discuss," he said. "They say he, or she," he added, flashing Yumi a look, "is one of the only assassins still loose in the city, you know."

"I've heard," Yumi said, trying not to look too pleased at the unintended compliment. Beside her, William heaved a sigh.

"Between The Fan and those guys in the Warriors of Lyoko, it's nearly impossible for a freelance assassin to get jobs anymore. It's getting to where they have to move to a new city entirely for work. The smaller villages aren't really in the market for killers," he added, glancing at Yumi.

"Are you an assassin?" Yumi asked curiously. She watched a grin spread across his face.

"I'd tell you," he said, "But then I'd have to kill you." Yumi raised an eyebrow in a delicate arch.

"Is that a 'yes'?" William let out a bark of laughter, turning to again face Yumi.

"Beautiful _and_ intelligent," he said, grinning widely. "I made the right choice in taking a seat beside you tonight."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Dunbar," Yumi told him flatly.

"Just call me William."

"Alright," Yumi said. "William." The dark haired man smiled at her use of his first name. "You never did answer my question," she continued. "Are you a cold blooded assassin, or aren't you?"

"I wouldn't say 'cold blooded'," William responded, taking a large swig of his drink.

"So you _are_ an assassin," she said, carefully filing away the information. William shrugged.

"More or less."

"And what does that mean?" Yumi asked.

"I'm, well I guess I'm what you might call 'semi-retired'," he said, waving his mug about slightly.

"You mean you're having trouble finding work," Yumi corrected, cracking a smile.

"What do you know, she can look happy," William teased. Yumi rolled her eyes.

"Avoiding the question, are we?" she asked.

"No," William immediately responded. "I'm just having trouble finding work I'm willing to accept."

"If you want something that pays well, you should check down at the castle. The king is always looking for independent assassins," Yumi told him. To her surprise, William scoffed, turning his attention back to his drink.

"It isn't all about the money you know," he said. "Anyone can take a job that pays well. But it's also important to take jobs that you agree on, you know?"

"Agree on?" Yumi asked. William nodded.

"Don't you think it's wrong for an assassin to take a mission just for the money?" he asked. "Shouldn't they also believe that the kill is, I don't know, just?"

"Just?" Yumi repeated. William gave her a long, hard look. For a moment it seemed to Yumi as if he wasn't looking at her, but instead seemingly lost in his own thoughts, but the moment passed, and William blinked, giving his head a slight shake and then grinning again.

"This is a pretty heavy discussion to be having on a first date, don't you think?" William asked. Both of Yumi's eyebrows shot up at his word choice.

"Date?" she asked him, all thoughts of payments and justness pushed from her mind. William grinned wolfishly at her.

"I know we only just met, but…?"

"But we only just met," Yumi told him flatly. "We're not on a date."

"Ouch," William teased. "Are you sure?" he then asked. "I think if I sat down next to me at a bar, I'd want to call it a date."

"Well then, I'll leave you two to your date," Yumi said, swallowing the last of her drink and then pushing away from the bar. "You might want to clamp down on that ego," she added as she turned to walk away. "You'll never get a real date like that."

"At least I don't mark all of my kills by carving pictures into their furniture," William quipped. Yumi immediately froze, spinning around to stare at the dark haired man. He treated her to a toothy smile and a small wave.

"Good night, Yumi," he said, raising his drink to her, and then turning back to the bar. Yumi continued to stare at his back a moment longer, before hurrying out of the bar and back into the cool night air.

She didn't look into the shop windows on her trip back to Theo's place, wanting suddenly to be back within the safety of his store's walls. Never before had someone recognized her, and it had left her feeling startled and shaken. As she walked, she entertained the thought briefly that she should have killed the man when she discovered what he knew, but it was too late to go back and find him now. If was truly an assassin, like he claimed, he would have bolted as soon as she was out of sight.

Sighing, Yumi reached Theo's door and pushed it open, the familiar jingle of the bell welcoming her into the shop. Across the room, Theo looked up from his work in surprise.

"You're back early," he said. "I expected you to be gone for a while longer."

"I'm more tired than I realized," Yumi lied, making her way for the door that lead to the stairs. Theo didn't seem to buy her excuse however, pausing in his work to take a closer look at her.

"Is everything okay?" he asked her. Yumi nodded.

"Everything's fine," she assured him. Theo looked less then convinced.

"I expect you to tell me about it in the morning," he told her sternly. Yumi rolled her eyes, although she was smiling.

"Good night, Theo," she said, pulling open the door to the stairs.

"Good night Yumi," he responded. Yumi waved, slipping past the door and letting it shut softly behind her.


	5. I Just Can't Wait to be King

**I made it! Just in the nick of time. This chapter was rediculous to write, but I finally pounded it out. Which is good, because this is the chapter that introduces the plot that's going to carry this story all the way to it's end. It also intros the last of my Main Characters. Woot. I feel like there's more I wanted to say, but I can't remember and the sooner I finish this the sooner I get to eat.**

**Dedication: To RenaYumi, for motivating me and doing Healthy Summer with me. And to Cheesepuff, for making story endings dramatic. And to Snowy and DayDreamer9 for their endless wonderful reviews.**

* * *

The guard did his best to stifle a yawn as he trudged along the wall top. Spread out below him was the city, marked by clusters of lights that revealed the taverns and inns still open at this late hour. About a mile to his left, the guard could just make out the church spire through the midnight gloom. Blinking heavily, he scanned what he could see of the streets from the church to the castle barbican and back.

"Not so much as a stray cat out tonight," the guard to his right observed. Turning, the first guard spotted his companion slumped against the battlements, chin in his hand and spear balanced against the wall a few feet away.

"Aren't we supposed to be walking our patrol?" the first guard asked uncertainly. The second guard, a much older man, laughed.

"This your first night up here?" he asked curiously. The younger guard nodded. "Thought so. You'll soon learn, nothing exciting happens up here at the top of the castle. Ain't a single man or woman crazy enough to try and get all the way up here."

"Even an assassin?" the young guard asked.

"Especially an assassin," the older man responded. He pulled a face, spat over the battlements, then continued. "Everyone thinks they're a bunch of brilliant killers, you know? But really they're nothing special. Most of them are lazy as all heck. Wouldn't climb a tree unless they really thought that had to."

"Really?" the younger guard asked, surprised. "What about that one killer, the Fan?" He'd heard stories about the infamous killer all about town—just the other night he'd been sitting in a tavern where two men sitting a ways away from him had been trying to convince their companions that they'd seen the assassin himself fleeing from the location of his current murder. The pair's companion had been entirely unconvinced, telling their friends that if they'd _really _seen the Fan then they wouldn't have been around to tell the story.

"The Fan," the older guard sneered, pulling a face at the title given the otherwise unknown assassin. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear, lad. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing were just a hoax."

"A hoax?" the younger guard repeated. He set his spear against the wall, leaning against the battlement as he listened to the older guard.

"Oh yes," his companion said. "The military higher ups are known to up the hype on these kinds of things. It's a good way to keep people in line, you know? I wouldn't be surprised if it was the military itself killing these people, and then making up this whole Fan thing as a cover."

"What makes you think that?"

"Just look at who've been killed," the older man said. "The first one was a man who'd been harassing the King about some law changes, then that woman who'd supposedly been seducing information out of some of our captains. And now this guy who was spewing all his propaganda against the royal family? Believe you me," the man said, crossing his arms over his chest, "this is no coincidence. This isn't just some wild assassin killing whomever he wants. There's more to it than that."

"And how does this tie into your conspiracy theory?"

The young guard gasped as a cloaked figured materialized behind the older guard. There was a flash of silver, and suddenly blood was flowing freely from the other man's slit throat. He tried to say something, bubbles of air escaping through the gaping wound on his neck, before he slumped forward, collapsing to the ground in a heap atop a rapidly expanding puddle of blood.

The younger guard gaped down at the body of his comrade, his eyes then slowly trekking up to look at the cloaked man crouched on the battlements. He was idly twirling his now blood stained knife. His hood was pulled up, leaving all but the lower half of his face in shadows. The man's lips quirked upwards as the guard stared at him. Ceasing his knife twirling, he used the weapon to motion over the guard's shoulder.

"I think he was trying to say 'Look behind you'."

The guard's blood ran cold as he whirled around, only to find himself face to face with a pair of cold, blue eyes.

Those eyes, and his blood splattering against the stone wall, would be the last thing the guard ever saw.

* * *

The figure moved lithely along the wall the slick walls of the castle, hands moving nimbly from brick to brick, so quickly that they might as well have not touched the wall at all. The person made no noise, so as to avoid alerting any guards to their presence. Not that there were any still standing to hear them—all of them guards that posed a threat to the person's movements had been cleared away by the dark figure's companions.

Turning their head to glance over at the wall surrounding the castle, the figure revealed a glimpse of bright green eyes set into the feminine, elfin face. Her eyes darted quickly along the wall, searching for any sign that her companions' mission had been unsuccessful. After a moment her wandering gaze spotted a flash of light, moonbeams reflected off of the hilt of a sword.

They'd done what they'd been sent out to do. She was free to move forward.

A small smile flicking across her face, the woman returned to her silent climb. Her target was clear from the firm set of her gaze, the high tower window coming ever closer with each hand and foot hold left behind her.

Warm candle light glowed through the open window, its heavy curtains drawn back to allow in the warm night air. She'd seen the figure sitting inside from the wall top; a dark silhouette bent low ever a writing desk, his safety left ever so trustingly in the hands of the guards outside.

His complacency was a mistake he wouldn't be able to make twice.

The woman slowed as she drew closer, each movement careful and deliberate as she crept towards the sill. Once she had reached the window's edge, she sank her fingers into a gap in the rock, making sure she had a firm hold. Then, with her other hand, she reached for the dagger sheathed at her waist. Drawing the weapon slowly, she held it out and at an angle, using the highly polished blade to reflect the man in the room.

He was still sitting at the desk, slumped over. The woman squinted, tilting the blade slightly towards her. The man was leaning too far over to be writing or reading, and the way his arm was laying…

_He's sleeping_, she realized. The woman blinked in surprise, but then smiled once more. If he wanted to spend the final moments of his life sleeping, then that was fine with her.

Shifting her weight, the woman re-sheathed her dagger and began climbing again. Passing along the side of the window, she moved to the top of the curving archway. She was going to have only one chance to make her entrance, so she needed to do it right the first time. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she spread her legs along the ledge of decorative stone circling the open window. Gripping the ledge tightly, she took one more breath and then, with a silent push, shoved her legs off of the wall.

Her legs swung out away from the wall, and she quickly brought them together, straightening them right before she swung through the window, the rest of her body flowing through after her.

Releasing the window ledge at the apex of her swing, the woman shifted her momentum into a graceful crouched landing. She touched down soundlessly; one hand moving to her dagger hilt as her eyes quickly took in the room around her.

She'd landed in the center of a circular room that looked a little like a cross between a bedroom and a study. A small, made bed was pressed up along one wall, two narrow bookshelves like bookends on either end. Against the other wall sat a small, wooden desk, at which the room's occupant slept soundly, undisrupted by the woman's agile entrance.

Clicking her tongue in gently rapprochement, the woman moved quietly across the room, dagger swinging lightly at her hip. Reaching the man's side, the woman knelt down, trying to get a better look at the sleeping man's face. Not because she wanted to confirm the man's identity—she didn't know the man's face and wouldn't have recognized him either way—but more because she wanted to learn. She wanted to learn what a man who had been accused of such atrocious crimes looked like.

To her surprise, he looked rather ordinary. Brown hair and a plain face, she wouldn't have been able to pick him out of a crowd unless she'd really needed too. He certainly didn't look like the type to go about doing the kinds of things for which he'd been accused.

For one brief moment she wondered if maybe they'd come to the wrong place. But no, all of the information that had brought her here had been provided through very reliable means. It wasn't wrong; he had to be the man she was meant to kill.

Sighing softly, the woman lifted her dagger once more. Leaning towards the man, she angled herself so that she could slip the blade over his shoulder, resting its edge against the pale skin of his exposed neck. If she looked closely enough, she could just make out the faint flicker of his pulse, beating strong just below the line of silver, glinting metal.

"Farewell," she whispered; her voice light as she twisted her wrist and pulled back on the blade.

* * *

The two men standing atop the guard wall looked up casually as a lithe figure appeared on the battlements, lifting herself over the wall's edge and twisting gracefully into a sitting position across from them. Her green eyes glittered mischievously as they nodded to her in greeting.

"I see you didn't have any trouble," she said, nodding to the two armored corpses lying at the men's feet.

"Nope," one of them said; his arms folded lazily behind his head. "How about you, Aelita? Did you get him?"

"Do you need to ask?" the Aelita said, pretending to look affronted. The man laughed.

"Probably not," Odd said, his blue eyes smiling. "So, we ready to go then?"

"After you," his companion said, motioning over the wall.

"Wow," Odd said, "that's nice of you, letting me go first." Ulrich grinned.

"Ladies first." Odd gaped, while Aelita struggled to stifle her laughter.

"One of these nights, I'm going to kill you while you sleep," Odd threatened. Ulrich rolled his eyes.

"I'd like to see you try. Now, can we get going?" he asked, motioning to the two ropes hanging from the side of the wall. "Preferably before the guard changes."

"Yeah, yeah," Odd muttered, pulling the hood of his cloak up as he turned to one of the ropes. Turning back to Aelita, he bowed low, motioning to the rope with a sweeping wave of his arm. "Ladies first." Ulrich snorted, rolling his eyes as Aelita stepped down from the wall and walked over.

"Why thank you, Odd," she said, smiling at the blonde as she took the rope in one hand. Stepping over the wall, she took a moment to steady herself. Then, with a wink at Odd, she leapt away from the wall, letting the rope slide through her fingers as she disappeared from sight.

"Aww," Ulrich cooed, drawing Odd's attention to the brunet, who was grinning at his partner. His grin widened when he caught sight of Odd's face, and he pointed openly as he declared, "you're blushing!"

"I am not!" Odd said, even though he could feel his cheeks burning, the blush only darkening as Ulrich called him out on it.

"Yes you are," Ulrich said in a singsong voice as he stepped over the wall, picking up his rope as he did. Odd huffed at him, but otherwise refused to respond as he too prepared to jump. Ulrich, realizing he was being given the silent treatment, sighed. "Don't be like that," he said. "You know I'm just messing with you."

Odd said nothing, looking away from the brunet. No matter, Ulrich knew just how to deal with his friend when he was being like this.

"I'd race you to the bottom," he said, "but it would be pointless. We already know I'd win."

"You would not!" Odd said, glaring at Ulrich.

"Would to."

"Would not!"

"Prove it."

Instead of words, Odd's response was to jump from the wall, letting the rope slide through his hands as he plummeted downwards. Ulrich, knowing those would be the words to get the blonde going, had jumped with him, and they now fell together, heads turned to watch for the ground approaching from below.

When it came time to slow their decent the boys acted in unison, both throwing out their legs and tightening their grips in their ropes. Bouncing against the wall a few times, they gradually brought their freefall to a more manageable level, and by the time they reached the bottom of the castle's high guard walls, they were able to lightly leap down to the ground.

"Hah!" Odd shouted as soon as he touched down. "I win!"

"No you didn't."

Spinning around, Odd glowered at Ulrich, who was standing with his hands on his hips, looking triumphant.

"Yes I did," Odd said, fixing Ulrich with a look that was meant to be intimidating. Ulrich was not phased in the least. However, before he could respond with some sort of witty remark he was cut off by Aelita, who was frowning at the pair.

"Do you think we could discuss this a little later?" she asked. "Like, somewhere that isn't still crawling with castle guards about to change shift?" Both boys blinked at her.

"Uh, good idea," Ulrich said, looking sheepish. Aelita smiled.

"Of course it is," she said. Then, before either boy could respond, she spun on her heel and started to lead the way away from the wall. Odd and Ulrich gaped after her for a moment and then, after exchanging shrugs, they hurried to catch up with her. They left their ropes hanging where they were as the assassins planned to be long gone from the castle before any guard spotted them.

The group had only to travel a short distance before they reached the moat encircling the castle. A long, thick wooden beam lay stretched across the expanse of water. Aelita approached it, a smirk pulling at her lips as she rested one foot on the edge of the beam.

"Watch this," she said. Before the boys would ask what she meant, the pink haired woman rolled forward into an elegant cartwheel, which led into a series of precise twirls and spins as she moved her way across the wooden beam bridge. Odd gaped after her, his eyes glued to the taught lines and delicate curves made by her body as she moved. Beside him Ulrich grinned, elbowing his partner in the ribs.

"Blushing," he muttered.

"Psh," Odd responded. "I could do that."

"Sure you could."

"Just watch me."

With a slight running start, Odd vaulted himself onto the beam, following after Aelita with a flashier, and much less graceful, imitation of her performance. Shaking his head, Ulrich took to the beam at a much less exciting walking pace, figuring that two assassins trying to fall off the beam and into the moat was enough for one night.

"You're such a stick in the mud," Odd said as Ulrich stepped down on the beam's other side. The brunet rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry you think it's boring when I don't do things that could endanger the mission."

"Don't say that Ulrich," Aelita admonished. "You know that on a mission this important we wouldn't do anything that could cause us to fail."

"You wouldn't," Ulrich said. "But that's because you could walk across that beam on your thumbs and not fall off. Odd has enough trouble as it is on his own two feet."

"Do not," Odd huffed, frowning. He then straightened, thrusting out his chest and planting his hands on his hips. "I'll have you know, I'm as nimble as a cat. I never fall, and if I ever should, I will always land on my feet."

"Cat's don't always land on their feet," Aelita pointed out, poking Odd in the chest. The blonde deflated with a pout, which caused Aelita to giggle. Ulrich sighed, rolling his eyes at the pair.

"Come on," he said, "we need to get back to Jeremy."

"Alright," Aelita said. Turning, she pointed to the dark shape that marked the forest in the distance. "Onward, men!" She and Odd took off, disappearing silently into the night. Shaking his head once more, Ulrich turned back to their makeshift bridge. With a well placed kick he knocked it sideways, causing it to topple off of the bank and into the moat, where the heavy beam quickly sank out of sight. He then turned and, with a final look up at the castle, followed after his fellow assassins.

They didn't talk as they traveled, wanting to get to the woods as quickly as possible. It wasn't long before the imposing tree line that marked the edge of the city that they slowed, peering through the shadows as they looked for their comrade.

"Jeremy?" Aelita called softly. There was a long moment of silence, during which all three held their breath, listening for any sign of the fourth assassin. A rustling in the trees had them all reaching for their array of weapons, but they relaxed a moment later when a familiar bespectacled blond stepped out of the shadows.

"How did it go?" he asked. Odd sighed, stuffing the arrow he'd grabbed back into his quiver.

"Didn't any one ever teach you not to be sneaky around assassins?" he asked. "We almost killed you."

"I'd like to see you try," Jeremy scoffed. Odd glowered at him.

"Our mission went fine," Aelita said, stepping in before Odd could say anything else. "A complete success. What about you? Did you have an trouble with the patrols?"

"One came through just a few minutes ago," Jeremy said, causing the group who had been at the castle to frown. They were supposed to be back before the patrol came by.

"Did they give you any trouble?" Ulrich asked. Jeremy had this look that could make you feel like even asking what made the stars burn was a stupid question, and it was this look that he now gave Ulrich.

"Of course not," he said. He motioned behind him with a jerk of his thumb. "Take a look." Brow furrowing, Ulrich looked in the direction Jeremy has pointed. His gaze fell across a shadowy lump that. Giving the lump a closer look, Ulrich felt his eyebrow moving towards his hairline as the dark mass materialized into a slumped body. Stepping closer, Ulrich was able to make out the imperial armor the man was clad in. He could also see that the man was clearly dead, sprawled on his back and staring up at the sky through wide, bloodshot eyes. His skin, oddly enough, was a strange bluish-purple color. There was only one injury on him, a thin cut across his neck—hardly enough to touch the man's airway.

Of course, Ulrich knew it wasn't the man's air supply that Jeremy had been after. The poison master didn't need to spill a man's blood to kill him.

"I see you used the new poison," Aelita commented, eyeing the fallen guard with the analytical eye of a chemist. Jeremy nodded.

"It still needs some work," he said. "It doesn't take effect quite fast enough. And there were a few unexpected side effects."

"Really?" Aelita asked.

"What kind of side effects?" Odd asked, more out of morbid curiosity than any kind of academic wonder. Jeremy glanced up at the archer and grinned, twirling his small knife between his fingers.

"Would you like me to show you?"

"Uh," Odd faltered, glancing between Jeremy and the spinning blade. "No thanks." Scooting towards a bemused looking Ulrich, Odd couldn't help but think that his fellow blonde had one strange sense of humor.

"Are we ready to go then?" Jeremy asked, looking around his companions.

"Yes," Odd said immediately. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm sick of this city. Let's go home."

"We can't go just yet," Jeremy said. Odd frowned.

"Why not?" he asked. Jeremy blinked, his 'that's the dumbest question I've ever been asked' look creeping back onto his face. Odd's frown deepened. "Don't give me that look."

"Why?" Ulrich asked. "You're asking for it."

"I am not!" Odd cried.

"You are," Ulrich said. "We can't leave yet, we still owe someone their payment, remember?"

"We do?" Odd asked blankly. The others simply stared; deciding to wait and see of the blond would eventually figure it out on his own. There were various degrees of eye rolling as Odd's face finally lit up with understanding. "Oh yeah," he said, "that guy."

"Yes Odd, that guy," Jeremy said flatly. "The sooner we visit him, the sooner we can get out of here." With that, Jeremy turned on his heel and headed off towards the city. Aelita quickly fell into step with the blond, glancing over her shoulder as she and Jeremy started putting distance between themselves and the other assassin pair.

"Are you coming?" she asked, looking a little annoyed that the pair weren't already following. Ulrich and Odd blinked, sharing a look to confirm that Jeremy hadn't actually said 'we're going' out loud. They then hurried to catch up with the other two.

Knowing it was unlikely they would run into anyone so late at night, the group didn't conceal themselves, instead traveling in the open along the city's streets. Aelita latched onto Odd's arm as they walked, happily pointing out all of the shops she would visit if they were open. Every time she pointed to something she liked in a window display, Odd would respond with the assurance that, were the shop open, he would totally by whatever she was pointing to for her.

It was a struggle, but Ulrich was able to refrain from commenting on Odd's actual available funds. While Jeremy didn't say anything either, he shared more than a few long suffering looks with Ulrich, who was left turning more than one snicker into a small coughing fit. Oblivious to the looks, Aelita asked Ulrich if he was feeling alright. Odd simply scowled at his partner.

"Kill you in your sleep," he muttered.

"Like to see you try," Ulrich muttered back.

"Do you two ever stop?" Jeremy asked. The pair blinked at him.

"Stop what?" Odd asked. Jeremy sighed.

"Never mind."

Odd grinned at Ulrich as Jeremy turned around and continued down the street, then jogged to catch up with his fellow killer.

"Are we almost there yet?" he asked, draping himself across Jeremy's shoulder. His fellow blond scowled down at him, trying to shrug the boy off.

"Almost," he said, shaking his arm. "Would you mind letting go of me?"

"Yes," Odd said. "Yes I would." Frowning, Jeremy shoved Odd, who made a very theatric show of tumbling to the ground, where he lay sprawled across the road. Aelita laughed, bending over the fallen blond, who was now twitching.

"I think we should leave him here," Ulrich said, nudging his partner with the toe of his boot. Odd flailed, swatting at Ulrich's foot. He then held his hands up to the brunet.

"What?" Ulrich asked.

"Up," Odd commanded. Ulrich stared.

"No."

"Please?" he tried. Ulrich rolled his eyes and walked away. Sighing, Odd climbed to his feet, brushing the dirt from his cloak as he hurried after his companions. "Are we there yet?" he asked again. Ulrich frowned.

"Odd—"

"Yes," Jeremy said, motioning to the shop they were now standing outside of. He waved Aelita ahead of him. She walked up to the door confidently, Ulrich following behind her as she opened the door and stepped inside.

The first thing that hit Ulrich as he entered the shop was the smell, the sharp tang of ink and wood. The next thing he noticed, as he stepped into the little, dimly lit shop, was just how cramped it was inside. Cabinets and shelves towered over him, all made of wood splattered with ink stains and crammed with rolls of parchment paper. Jars of ink, all in various sizes, were stacked among them, filled with variously colored inks, mostly black. Dust billowed through the shop in thick swirls, kicked up from the ground by Ulrich and Aelita's boots and floor length robes. The shop's only source of light were the candles scattered around the room.

Aelita maneuvered deftly through the shop, Ulrich following at a slower pace. Behind him the shop door slammed shut, its little bell tinkling noisily. The sound got the attention of the young man sitting across the room, at a wide desk stationed below a wall sized map of the area. He looked up, a small smile coming to his face as he spotted Aelita approaching.

"For assassins, you lot aren't very stealthy."

The man's smile faltered, his gaze shifting to the left. Ulrich did the same, noticing for the first time the woman in the corner of the room. She was leaning back, arms cross over her chest and a foot propped against the wall, watching the visitors through narrowed eyes.

"It would be silly for them to sneak in to see me, don't you think?" the young man asked, turning back to his guests. "Hello Aelita," he said, grinning as he stood.

"It's good to see you, Theo," Aelita responded, stepping around Theo's desk, where the pair exchanged a quick embrace. "How are you?"

"Business isn't booming, but I'm not starving," he answered with a shrug as he stepped past Aelita to shake Jeremy's hand. He glanced quickly over the four assassins before asking, "I take it your mission went well?"

"You know we can't answer that," Jeremy said, although he was smiling. "However, I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that your blueprint helped us greatly."

"I am," Theo assured him.

"I assume that means you'll be paying now?" the woman in the corner asked, straightening away from the wall and walking over to stand beside Theo's desk. Theo flashed the woman a warning look. She fixed him with an annoyed glower in return, leaning her hip against his desk as she eyed the gathered assassins closely.

Ulrich stared at the woman, unnerved by how bold she was in the face of four trained killers. Feeling his stare, her dark eyes shifted to meet his. Contempt and distrust shined brightly in her gaze as she glared at the young man. Beside him, Ulrich felt Odd shift closer and tense. Aelita glanced warily between her companions and the dark haired woman, while Jeremy and Theo quickly exchanged a few muttered words and the money that was owed.

"Thank you again, Theo," Jeremy said as he shook the man's hand once more. "Your help is always greatly appreciated by Lyoko."

"It's always a pleasure doing business with the Warriors," Theo said. "I hope to work with you again soon." Jeremy nodded.

"We'll be in touch." Turning, he motioned lightly for the others to follow him, and then started heading for the shop's exit. Aelita and Odd filed in behind the blond and, after a final long look at the dark eyed woman still glaring at them, Ulrich followed as well.

"That was…interesting," Odd said once they were back out on the street, the shop door swinging shut behind them.

"What was with that woman?" Aelita asked, frowning slightly. "She didn't really seem like the kind of person Theo would be friends with."

"And what kind of people _would _Theo be friends with?" Odd asked.

"Good people," Jeremy said. "People who are a little more reputable and less…unfriendly," he finished with a shrug. He quirked an eyebrow when his response got a laugh from Odd. "What?" he asked.

"More reputable and friendly," Odd repeated, while pointing to himself. "Like us?" Jeremy rolled his eyes at the blond.

"You know what I mean," he huffed. Odd grinned.

"Cut it out you two," Aelita sighed, stepping between the pair. Latching onto Odd's arm, she skipped down the sidewalk, tugging Odd after her. "Instead of fighting, why don't you guys try celebrating." She sighed again when the only response she got from the two boys was a pair of blank looks. "We're done!" she said, "we've completed the mission! Now all we have to do is go home. Aren't you excited to get back?"

"I am," Ulrich said, stepping up on Odd's other side. "I, for one, hate missions that take us this far out." Odd schooled his face into a sympathetic expression.

"Is Ulrich homesick?" he asked. Ulrich scowled.

"Odd," he said, turning the name into a warning, "if you don't cut it out, I will take that bow of yours and shove it up your—"

"Ulrich!" Odd cried, while clapping his hands of a giggling Aelita's ears. "Watch your language, there's a woman present!"

"You lot are ridiculous," Jeremy said, rolling his eyes as Ulrich took a swing at Odd, which the blond deftly dodged. With a final taunt, he then took off running down the street, a fuming Ulrich hot on his heels. Watching them vanish down the street, Aelita smiled up at Jeremy, who was frowning after the pair.

"Aren't they funny?" Aelita asked. Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, sure," he said. "…Funny." Aelita laughed, the sound like wind chimes as she grabbed Jeremy's wrist and tugged it.

"Come on, Jer," she said, "we should probably go after them before they get lost."

"And wake up half the city in the process," Jeremy added, as a pained yelp echoed from around a bend in the road, sounding suspiciously like Odd. Dragging her partner down the street, Aelita simply continued to laugh.

* * *

Perched atop the roof of one of the shops overlooking the market square, William lounged back lazily, one leg dangling over the roof's edge as he watched the quartet that emerged from Theo's shop. Eyes narrowing, he followed their progress as they moved along the street, chatting among themselves. He was faintly surprised by how relaxed they seemed—what he knew of the assassins trained by Lyoko painted a picture of constant alertness, warriors who were so finely trained that they were incapable of letting their guards down for even a moment.

A group young people—more child than adult really—swiping at one another out in the open streets of a marketplace were not at all what he'd expected to see instead. Listening to them shouting at one another, without any consideration of the fact that there were people sleeping all around who could, at any moment, awaken and spot the group, William felt his lip curling in disgust. That people as bungling at this called themselves silent killers was truly absurd.

Down below, one of the group, a boy with bright blond hair, suddenly took off running down the street, his brown haired companion chasing after him. Sighing, William shifted to his feet, keeping one eye on the pair as they rounded the corner of a shop and using the other to see what the remaining warriors would do. When it seemed as if they were going to follow their companions, William started making his way silently across the rooftops, following after the two who had run off.

Leaping the short distance separating two shops, William landed lightly atop the building behind which the blond and brunet had vanished behind. Moving carefully across the building's thatched roof, William made no sound, not even displacing a single piece of straw as he crept towards the roof's edge. Peering out over the gutter, dark eyes surveyed the street below, looking for the bickering assassins.

They weren't hard to spot. Having caught up with his companion, the brunet had then wrestled the other boy to the ground. The two were now fighting their way across the cobbled street, exchanging both insults and blows.

_They're completely ridiculous, _William marveled silently to himself. Shaking his head, he sat back on his haunches, continuing to watch the two fighters as he waited for their companions to catch up with them.

"Why, hello there," a soft voice said suddenly, coming from William's right. It was only his finely honed instincts that kept William from jumping at the unexpected sound. Quickly schooling his expression into one of indifference, so as to hide his complete shock at his visitor's arrival, William slowly turned to look at the person sitting beside him.

The pink haired female assassin smiled back at him, looking for all the world as if she'd been sitting there the whole time, casually twirling a knife between thin, nimble fingers.

"Can I help you?" William asked easily, raising an eyebrow at the girl. Her smile grew, green eyes alight with mirth, but it wasn't she who responded.

"You can tell us what you're doing following us," the remaining assassin said, his tone brisk. Turning to his right, William had to look up to see his other visitor properly, as he was standing at the roof's edge, hands folded loosely behind his back as he looked down at the spot where the other two assassins were fighting.

Or, where they had been fighting. William cursed silently as he realized that, while he'd been distracted by the pair on either side of him, the two men down below had vanished from sight.

"Tricky, aren't they," the man observed, tilting his head slightly to look down at William. "In case you were wondering where they went," he continued conversationally, "they've both taken up defensive positions around us. One of them is making his way into the attic below us, if he isn't there already, while the other is already among the rooftops, where he is waiting, both capable of and willing to shoot an arrow through your heart if you so much as look like you're going to do anything other than answer my questions."

"Oh really?" William responded, his tone just as calm. "He must be pretty fast, if he was able to conceal himself that quickly."

"He is," the man agreed. "Now, I ask you again, why are you following us?"

"Who says I'm following you?" William replied. He didn't see the bespectacled man beside him move in any way that could be construed as a signal, but he must have because, a second after William spoke, a soft thud sounded between his feet. Looking down in barely concealed surprise, William could only stare at the arrow shaft protruding from the roof's thatching.

"You were saying?" the man asked. Frowning, William grabbed the arrow and tugged it, pulling it loose with a small shower of dirt and hay.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was just being curious?" William asked. He turned to look at the pink haired girl. "When a man spots a girl as pretty as you, is it that surprising that he would want to follow her home?" The girl's smile grew, a small blush coloring her cheeks. At the same time, William felt the cold bite of the point of a blade against his neck.

"A man should be careful following a woman along the streets at night," a new voice said. "There's no telling how many armed men she has at her beck and call."

"My guess is, at least three." Tilting his head slightly, William was able to make out the shape of the brunet from earlier standing behind him, the man pressing the tip of his sword against the point where William's spine met his skull.

"I'll ask one more time," the bespectacled man said. "And if you don't answer me honestly, my friend here will take your head off."

"Then he'll be taking off the head of an honest man," William replied. "I'll be the first to admit that chasing the ladies tended to get me into more trouble than a man should want, but I never expected to lose my head over it." Turning back to Aelita, William fixed her with his most gracious smile. "If I'm guilty of anything, it's of having to good of an eye for a beautiful woman, and too poor a sense to know when she's better left un-pursued."

Beneath her smiling green eyes, William could just make out the calculating gaze of someone who was sizing up his words, his tone, his expressions, and picking carefully through them for any hint of deception. Not that she would find any. William was fully aware of the fact that no one could tell a lie like he could.

Letting his smile grow into something a little more flirtatious, William leaned closer to the girl, ignoring the two men behind him as he winked and added, "How about you and I leave your body guards behind for the night? I know a lovely little place just down the road where they serve the best ale." His final offer did the trick, and William watched with hidden satisfaction as the girl's gaze gave away her thoughts, her opinion of him switching easily from _possible threat _to _annoying flirt._

"Not tonight," she said, still smiling, "my friends and I need to be going. But if I'm ever back in the city, I might just take you up on that offer." Climbing lithely to her feet, she gave William one last look before, with a graceful leap, dropping down over the edge of the roof and out of sight. The sword point vanished from William's neck and, a moment later, the two male assassins also disappeared. William could just make out the faint sound of two bodies landing in street below.

William waited until he was sure the group was long gone before letting out a low sigh. Looking down at the arrow still gripped in his hand, William twirled it slowly, while mulling over all he had just learned. Eyes tracing over the carefully sanded wood of the arrow's shaft, all the way down to the feathers tightly bound to the arrow's end, William felt his eyebrows rise as he recognized the craftsmanship.

"A Della Robbia, huh?" he muttered to himself. "I thought all of the sisters had been killed. Interesting." Giving the arrow a thoughtful look, William turned it over in his hand and then, with a single thrust, shoved it back into the roof. "A Della Robbia and Antea's daughter. Who would have guessed?" Dropping down into a sitting position, William swung his legs over the edge of the roof, a small smile coming to his face.

"What does that mean?"

William's smile grew as Yumi materialized behind him.

"It means that those are some very skilled killers," he replied. "Ones I would suggest steering clear of. Why do you ask?"

"Did you figure out where they're headed?" Yumi asked. William rolled his eyes.

"So very to the point," William teased. "A woman as lovely as yourself shouldn't be so uptight." Tilting his head back, William grinned up at the frowning assassin. "You'll give yourself all kinds of wrinkles doing that."

"Did I ask you for beauty advice?" Yumi snapped. "No," she continued, before William could respond. "I asked if you found out where they were heading."

"Saying 'please' wouldn't hurt, you know," William offered.

"Tell me," Yumi demanded, "or you won't be paid." William sighed.

"Fine," he said. "They're heading back to their base."

"And where is that?" Yumi asked.

"You didn't ask me for that information," William responded. "And if you're reporting this information to who I think you are, then you really don't need it."

"Who I do or don't pass your information on to is none of your concern," Yumi said.

"Sure it is," William continued to grin up at Yumi. "If I think you're using my information for insidious purposes, I have the right to keep it from you."

"Is this more of you 'being just' prattle?" Yumi asked. William frowned at her.

"It's not prattle," he defended.

"William," Yumi said, narrowing her eyes. "If you don't stop trying to distract me and start giving me answers, I'll kill you." William sighed, turning his gaze back out over the city.

"I did answer you," he said. "They're returning to their base." There was a moment of silence, and then a jingle and thump. William ignored the small bag of coins Yumi dropped at his side.

"Thank you."

William didn't hear Yumi leave, but he could feel her presence disappear from the rooftop. Sighing, William glanced down at the coins and then shook his head.

"Yeah, sure," he muttered. "You're welcome."

* * *

Xana stared down dispassionately at the soldier slumped across the small writing desk. His lip curling, he nudged the body with the hilt of his sword, turning it to the side to reveal the thin knife wound across the soldier's neck. Although not deep, the edges of the wound were a strange greenish color, and the cut was oozing a sort of puss like fluid.

"Disgusting," the general muttered, moving his sword and allowing the body to slump back forward. Shaking his head, he stepped back, turning to face one of the other two people standing in the room with him. "You're sure it was them?" he asked.

"Positive."

"How positive," Xana asked, eyeing the dark haired assassin. She frowned at him before replying.

"They came into my friend's shop to purchase a blueprint for this area of the castle. Your messenger arrived and told me about this man's death right before they arrived at the shop to exchange payments."

"And you're sure about where they're heading?"

"Yes. I had a trusted associate interrogate them for me." The assassin's frown deepened when Xana gave her an annoyed look.

"Don't you think an interrogation would arouse their suspicions?" he asked.

"Don't you think I'm smart enough to not be obvious about it?" she asked back. "That had no idea who they were talking to, or what kind of information they gave away to him. Your secret is still safe, General."

"As it should be, Miss Ishiyama." Turning away from the assassin, who was glowering at his back, Xana focused his attention on the other person in the room. "Captain Morales," he barked, causing the man to stand to attention. "Gather your men. We head out in half an hour. We'll use the darkness as a cover to move the troops into the woods without alerting the King to our plans."

"Yes sir," Captain Morales said, snapping into a salute before turning and heading out of the room. Xana grinned at the man's retreating back.

"Everything is finally coming together," he muttered. Turning back towards the assassin, Xana was unsurprised to find himself alone in the room. Eyeing the open window, Xana's grin grew. "Run while you can, killer," he hissed under his breath. Stepping up to the window, Xana looked out over the city, dark and unlit in the night. "Your time has come. It won't be long before you and your kind have no where left to hide."


	6. Chow Down

**No, that's not bacon you smell. It's just my fried brain. I have no excuses for this lateness, other than this chapter being...tough. The last 2,000 plus words wrote themselves all out of order, and at one point I was just making up new plot twists ideas as I went. My read through for typos was, at this point, probably a useless endeavor. At least it's my longest chapter yet? 'sighs' Oh, and I cannot be held accountable for Xana's character, who is both pompous and completely nuts. I apologize in advance.**

**Dedicated to Rena, for motivational ideas, our latest of which can be seen at bandsforbrillance DOT blogspot DOT com. And John, for getting his proof. GO JOHN! Also to John for being the first person to complain about a lack of updates via social networking site. Kudos on the creativity.**

* * *

With a groan, Ulrich rolled onto his side. Or, he tried to roll onto his side, until he realized there was something blocking his way. Something warm, kind of soft, and…snoring? Frowning, Ulrich reached out blindly to shove at his partner who had, at some point during the night, snuggled a little too closely to his fellow killer. Sadly, Ulrich's shove did not have the intended effect of simply rolling the blond away from him. Rather, it startled the young man into a rather flail filled state of wakefulness.

"Who's there?" Odd snapped, blinking owlishly as his fists shot out in opposite directions, swinging wildly as searched for something to punch.

"Watch it," Ulrich growled, ducking one of Odd's sleepy jabs. Grabbing the boy's arm, he shoved it away. "It's just me, you idiot." Squinting against the early morning sun, Odd stared at Ulrich for a long moment. Recognition slid into place across his features a moment later, and the blond relaxed, sprawling back against the ground.

"What do you want," he grumbled in annoyance. Ulrich frowned.

"I want you to not try and sleep with me," he said. Odd responded with a jaw cracking yawn. Shaking his head, Ulrich rolled away from the boy and sat up, looking around himself as he stretched. Aelita, who was sitting beside the smoldering remains of the fire from the night before polishing the ivory handle of her dagger, smiled at him.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

"Sure," Ulrich said, while motioning with his head to Odd. "As well as I could, anyway." Aelita laughed, while Odd kicked out with his leg, trying and failing to hit his friend. "You're going to have to try harder than that," Ulrich teased.

"Don't tempt me," Odd grumbled back, interrupting himself halfway through with another yawn. Ulrich laughed, while Odd groaned and rolled onto his stomach, burying his head in his arms.

"Is that any way to greet the morning?" Ulrich asked, poking Odd in the back.

"Hi, morning," Odd muttered, his words muffled by his arms. Ulrich rolled his eyes, while Aelita continued to laugh at their antics.

"Someone's not a morning person," she sing-songed.

"Someone was up until way too early killing people," Odd responded.

"And someone needs to get over it and get up."

Odd tilted his head, one blue eye peering out over his arm to fix Ulrich with a red eyed, droopy glare.

"Kill you in your sleep," he assured the brunet.

"Like to see you try."

"Do you two ever stop?"

"Do you ever sleep?"

Jeremy ignored his fellow blond's question. Aelita grinned up at the boy, who was perched on a branch up in the boughs of one of the trees around the group. He stood with one hand tucked behind his back, the other holding the end of a small sack that was slung over his shoulder. He was looking down at the group with a raised eyebrow.

"I was wondering when you two would wake up."

"Yeah, yeah," Odd mumbled. Ulrich glanced at his partner and shrugged, folding his hands behind his head.

"We can't all be morning people like you are, Jer," he said.

"You know," Odd said, his tone thoughtful as he rolled onto his side, "I don't think you can call someone a morning person, exactly, if they get up while it's still completely dark out. I mean, is three in the morning really _in the morning_?"

"At least I wake up in the morning," Jeremy retorted. "Three in the morning is better than three in the afternoon."

"I do not sleep that late," Odd argued. Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him, all radiating their disbelief. "What?" Odd asked, frowning at them.

They continued to stare.

"Fine, fine," Odd huffed. "So I did that _once._"

"A month," Ulrich muttered under his breath. Odd glared at his partner, while Jeremy added,

"Or a week."

"Or a day," Ulrich said, grinning as Odd gapped back and forth between the two.

"Whose side are you on?" he asked, finally settling on glaring at Ulrich. Ulrich shrugged.

"The winning side." Odd narrowed his eyes at the brunet.

"In your sleep," he growled.

"See you try," Ulrich responded automatically.

"Do you think you two can save killing one another in your sleep until _after _breakfast?" Jeremy asked, already sounding exasperated with the pair. Ulrich and Odd turned to look up at the surly blond and then, in unison, fixed him with their best wide, innocent grins. Jeremy gave them a flat look. Ulrich's grin faltered slightly. Odd's simply grew.

"What do you have for us today, chef Belpois?" he asked as he sat upright.

"Oh, now you're awake," Jeremy teased. Odd stuck out his tongue.

"It's the food," Ulrich said knowingly. "The thought of food could wake Odd from the dead." Making a face, Odd swiped at Ulrich's head, the brunet dodging easily. Sighing, Jeremy leapt down from the tree, landing lightly. Aelita extended her hand towards him, and he relinquished the sack to her.

"Why does Aelita get first pick?" Odd whined.

"Because she could kill you in your sleep?" Ulrich offered. Odd gave him a dark look.

"Because she took the early morning shift, letting you sleep in," Jeremy said, frowning at Odd. Odd waved his hand dismissively.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, shrugging. Ulrich and Jeremy both sighed, Aelita only giggling as she reached a hand into the sack and rummaged about. After a few seconds she pulled her hand back out, something brown and feathery clutched in her fingers. Eyeing the bird critically for a few moments, Aelita eventually nodded in a satisfied sort of way and then handed the sack back to Jeremy.

"Will it do?" Jeremy asked, as he took the sack and then reached inside.

"It's perfect, Jeremy," Aelita said, smiling up at her partner. Jeremy smiled back, while producing his own choice of freshly killed furry woodland breakfast and then handing the sack over to Ulrich. Odd snatched at the bag, Ulrich pulling it away before the blonde could snag it from him.

"You can wait your turn," he said.

"Why does my turn have to be last?" Odd asked right back. Ulrich rolled his eyes.

"Your turn is last because—"  
"Shhh."

Ulrich scowled at Odd, but when he tried to say something else the blond held his hand up, frowning at his partner. Glancing at Aelita, Ulrich fixed her with a confused look, which she returned with a shrug.

"Do you hear that?" Odd asked, regaining Ulrich's attention.

"Hear wha—"

"Shhh."

"Odd—"

Odd held his hand up, cutting his partner off again. Sighing in frustration, Ulrich narrowed his eyes, watching as Odd cocked his head to one side. Odd flashed him a brief annoyed look, which was quickly replaced with one of surprise. Then, with a triumphant exclamation, Odd jumped to his feet and darted off into the woods.

Ulrich, for his part, was not entirely surprised.

"Umm, Ulrich," Aelita said slowly, staring at the spot where Odd had vanished through the trees, "where did he go?" Ulrich shrugged.

"He's not very good at explaining things," Ulrich explained, just as, with a rustling of leaves, Odd reappeared between two trees.

"Are you coming?" he asked Ulrich expectantly. Ulrich stared at the blond.

"I didn't know I was expected to," he said. Odd rolled his eyes.

"Well, duh," he huffed. Ulrich wasn't sure exactly what Odd was responding to, and he wasn't given a chance to ask before Odd was grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet with a shout of, "come on already!" Shaking his head, Ulrich followed after Odd as the blond hurried off through the trees. Huffing as he trailed after his partner, Ulrich tried to make his annoyance with Odd's idea of how to spend his morning, however the moment Odd signaled for Ulrich to be quiet the brunet fell silent.

Padding noiselessly over the forest floor, Ulrich's annoyance turned into a faint worry as he shadowed Odd, the blond moving carefully through the trees. Ulrich strained his ears, but he couldn't yet hear whatever it was that had drawn Odd's attention away from breakfast. He was tempted to ask, but he held his tongue. If Odd felt like it was a good idea to talk, he would explain himself.

Coming to an abrupt halt, Odd motioned briskly for Ulrich to go up. Checking around him, Ulrich took a single step back and then, after glancing around himself, picked a suitable looking tree trunk to ascend. As he scrambled towards the tree's upper boughs, he could just make out the sound of Odd climbing the tree near his.

Once they were both atop the trees, Ulrich glanced around for his partner, spotting him a dozen feet away from him, carefully hidden among the leaves. Catching Ulrich's gaze, the blond used a short series of hand signals to direct Ulrich forward. Following Odd's silent commands, Ulrich began to creep in the direction his partner indicated. As he inched along, he started to pick up on the faint, unexpected sound of voices speaking quietly.

"—haven't seen anything yet," someone was muttering softly. Shifting his position, Ulrich spotted a flash of color through the trees. Moving a few small branches aside, he was able to make out the back of a young man dressed in what looked like the armor of a soldier. The soldier was talking to a man clad in the ornate armor and uniform of a military officer.

"What about the scouts at the rear?" the officer asked. His voice was deep, and colored with an accent Ulrich didn't recognize.

"Nothing," the soldier said. "It looks like the assassins are too far ahead of us. They may have already made it to the castle."

"Don't be so assuming," the officer growled, scowling at the soldier. "We might be moving an entire army, but we're by no means slow. And four killers, no matter how sneaky, will only be moving so fast. Believe me, they're closer than you think. Tell the scouts to keep looking for them."

"Yes sir," the soldier said, snapping to a salute before hurry off to complete the officer's orders. The officer watched him go before, with a shake of his head, also walking away. Up in the tree, Ulrich remained completely still, scarcely daring to breath until the both the officer and soldier were lost from sight, the sound of their footsteps fading away. As soon as they were gone, a soft whistle sounded. Glancing to his left, Ulrich could see Odd vanish from sight, and he quickly followed suit, scrambling down from his treetop to meet his partner as they both landed softly on solid ground.

"Did you see their armor?" Odd asked immediately, his expression drawn. Ulrich nodded gravely.

"Imperial soldiers," he said. "And they're heading for Lyoko."

"How did they find out where it was?" Odd asked. Ulrich could only shrug.

"It doesn't really matter now," he said. "Knowing how they found it won't stop them from getting there. We need to get back and warn the Leader that they're coming so Lyoko can prepare to defend its self." Odd nodded.

"I'll go ahead," he offered. "You can go and get Aelita and Jeremy, then catch me up."

"No," Ulrich said, shaking his head. "You heard those two—they have scouts out looking for us. We don't know how many of them there are, or how quickly they could get backup from the rest of the army. If you were to get captured by them it would put Aelita, Jeremy, and I at a disadvantage that could stop us from getting to Lyoko in time." Ulrich sighed softly. "No, we need to stay together."

Odd's disgruntled expressions clearly showed his disagreement with his partner's decision. But Ulrich's logic was sound, and, as much as Odd didn't want to let the army currently in route to Lyoko to gain any more distance, he wanted less to do something that would give them the advantage of surprise.

"Fine," he breathed. "We stick together." Ulrich sighed, relieved that Odd wasn't going to go and do something reckless.

"Good. Let's go back and get Aelita and Jeremy." Nodding in agreement, Odd took off into through the trees, Ulrich right behind them as they raced back to where they'd left the others. They whole way back Ulrich's mind was racing, creating and discarding dozens of ideas and plans as he tried to come up with the best way to approach the current situation. Sadly, most of his ideas had a decidedly Odd-like flair, generally involving trying to take on the entire royal army single handedly.

Reaching their abandoned camp sooner than expected, Ulrich put his planning aside briefly as he was met with a pair of startled looks. Maybe explaining the situation out loud would help inspire him.

"What's wrong?" Jeremy asked, no preamble as he took in Odd and Ulrich's frightened looks. "What did you find?"

"Imperial soldiers," Odd said, barely panting from his run. "An entire army of them."

"Here in the woods?" Aelita asked, wide eyed. Both boys nodded.

"They're heading for Lyoko." Aelita fixed Ulrich with a terrified look. Jeremy's expression was stony, and Ulrich could tell that the blond was already filtering his way through a thousand different thoughts as he worked to answer all at once a dozen questions Ulrich's announcement created.

"An entire army?" he checked, looking at Odd, who nodded. "Then they'll have to take the main road to the castle." Main road being a loose term only, as no actual roads lead all the way to Lyoko. Ulrich knew that Jeremy was referring to an unpaved path through the woods that Lyoko used to transport goods and large numbers of warriors. It was barely used, and one of Lyoko's most guarded secrets.

Or, it had been anyway.

"That means we have to avoid the main road," Ulrich said. "We over heard them saying that they have scouts out looking for us," he explained when Jeremy gave him a questioning look. The blond's frown deepened with this news.

"The quickest route to Lyoko follows that road," he said. "Going around us will cost us time we don't have."

"They're transporting an entire army," Aelita interjected. "Even if we take a slightly longer way back, there's no way thousands of armored man will get through the woods faster than us."

"She's right," Odd agreed. "They might have the easier route, but there's only four of us—we'll be faster."

"We'll need to stick together," Jeremy said, echoing Ulrich's earlier sentiments, "and keep our distance from the road. If you see a scouting party and you can get pasted them without being spotted, do so—we don't want to alert the army. If you have to confront them then make sure you take out everyone. Just one man left alive is enough to alert the whole army to our presence." Everyone nodded in understanding, expressions grave.

"When we get to Lyoko," Jeremy continued, turning to Ulrich, "you go to the Leader and explain what's happening. Odd," he turned to the blond, "it'll be your job to get the wall defenders ready. Aelita and I will warn everyone else. Understood?" Again, Jeremy's words were met with a series of sharp nods. With their orders given, Odd and Aelita turned and took off through the trees, heading in the direction of the castle. Ulrich hung back, waiting as Jeremy kicked dirt over their fire.

"Do you think we'll definitely be able to beat the army back to Lyoko?" he asked once Jeremy was done snuffing out the fire. The blond's gaze was icy when it rose to meet Ulrich's.

"It's not being able to get to Lyoko first that I'm worried about." Ulrich swallowed hard at Jeremy's cryptic response. Then, with I final look in the direction where Ulrich first saw the soldiers, the two assassins turned and, with little more than the rustle of a few leaves, disappeared into the trees.

* * *

The journey back to Lyoko was soaked in tension, silent but for the sound of the assassin's footfalls, and entirely uneventful—which was why the group was taken so completely by surprise by the sight that met them on their return to Lyoko.

"No," Aelita gasped as they stumbled to a halt, standing atop the sloping rise that followed the path leading up to Lyoko. The sight they gazed down on chilled Ulrich blood as he stared, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing.

Down below the air roared with the sounds of battle, emanating from Lyoko, where hundreds of imperial soldiers swarmed the castle, locked in fierce combat with the Warriors of Lyoko. The sun, now low in the sky with the approaching night, glinted off of armor and weapons as the two forces traded blows, their cries echoing all the way up to Ulrich and his companions. Outside of the castle, all along the path bellow, the members of the imperial army that hadn't entered the castle, standing as a guard against both any support that might be coming to Lyoko and any warriors who would try and escape the castle.

"How could they have moved so fast?" Jeremy asked, his voice quiet yet laced with his anger as he scanned the scene.

"Doesn't matter," Ulrich growled, gripping his sword hilt tightly. "We have to get down there and help."

"No," Jeremy said, grabbing Ulrich's arm before he could take a step forward. Ulrich glared at him, furious, but Jeremy's expression remained stony. "If you go down there you'll be killed in seconds. What good will that do for anyone?" Ulrich opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to find something to say. But nothing would come to him, so he simply jerked his arm from Jeremy's grip and remained silent. "That's what I thought."

"You can't expect us to stay here," Odd said, also reaching for his weapon. "We have to do _something_."

"We will," Jeremy assured him. "But something that's actually going to be helpful." He spared a brief look to a still scowling Ulrich before continuing. "We can't do anything from out here, so we need to get inside if we want to assess the situation."

"And how do you expect us to do that?" Ulrich asked, motioning to the soldier packed road. "The way in isn't exactly clear."

"There's more than one way into a building."

"What are you talking about?" Ulrich asked, turning to look at Odd. But his partner was ignoring him, looking thoughtfully at Jeremy. When he motioned with a tilt of his head, Jeremy nodded.

"It could work."

"What could work?" Ulrich asked.

"The water," Odd said.

"The…what?"

"Water," Odd repeated. He pointed out to the lake whose edge the castle sat along. Where the road to the castle ended, the moat around the barbican began, which lead into the lake that surrounded the rest of the castle. The entire structure was basically an island, only accessible via bridge or…

"You…you want us to swim to the castle?" Ulrich asked, incredulous. "Don't you realize how dangerous that is? A bunch of people out there swimming, we'll stick out like trees in a meadow. If just one of those soldiers spots us we're done—out there we'd be perfect targets for an archer. We'd be killed in seconds," he added, scowling between the two blonds as he echoed Jeremy's earlier words.

"Not if you had a distraction."

All eyes turned to Aelita, who was grinning mischievously as she twirled her knife. Ulrich stared at Aelita for a moment before looking at Jeremy, who met his partner's gaze, a small smile ghosting his lips. It took a moment for the looks and Aelita's words to click together in Ulrich's mind.

"No," he said, once understanding crashed into place. "No, you're not being human decoys."

"There has to be another way," Odd agreed. Jeremy opened his mouth to respond, but Aelita's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Odd," she said softly, stepping forward, "you just said we had to do something. This is me and Jeremy doing something."

"Yeah, but," Odd faltered, "Can't you do something else?" Aelita's response was a small, sad smile. "Why don't you let me and Ulrich be the decoy then?" he tried instead. "I can just sit up here and shoot at them."

"If you want to kill anyone, you're aim has to be perfect," Jeremy said, "and you only have so many arrows before you have to resort to hand to hand fighting. And you will have to fight them," he added when Odd opened his mouth to protest, "they'll figure out where you're shooting from, and when you run out of arrows that won't just let you escape. Aelita and I, on the other hand, only have to nick someone to finish the job." Jeremy pulled a small vial from his robe and held it up to underline his point.

"Then put some of that on my arrows," Odd said. Jeremy gave Odd a flat look.

"Put poisoned weapons in your hands?" he said. "Not in a hundred years. And even poisoned, you'll still run out of arrows eventually." Odd's brow furrowed, the blond racking his brain for another argument that Jeremy wouldn't be able to shoot down. Jeremy, however, didn't give the boy time to think of one.

"Standing here talking about this is wasting time," he said. "If we're going to be of any help to Lyoko, we need to act now. Aelita and I will stay here to distract the soldiers; you two will go help the others. End of discussion."

"I agree," Aelita said, stepping back to stand beside Jeremy, who had moved closer to the edge of the slope leading to the road.

"So do I," Ulrich said, grabbing Odd's arm and tugging him in the other direction. The blond fought Ulrich's pull, continuing to stare pleadingly at Aelita.

"Odd, I'll be fine," she assured him. Reaching out, she cupped his cheek with her hand. "And so will you. Remember, we still have a date for dinner after all." She then leaned forward, planting a light kiss on Odd's lips. The action left Odd speechless, the boy simply blinking in surprise. Taking advantage of the moment, Ulrich nodded once to Jeremy and Aelita, and then pulled Odd away, hurriedly leading him down towards the shore. It wasn't until his boots hit the sand the Odd snapped out of his stupor.

"Did you see that?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder, trying to spot Aelita.

"Yeah, I did," Ulrich said, looking out over the lake. "Focus Odd. You can make out with your girl friend after we stop the army that's attacking us."

"She's not my girlfriend," Odd argued. Ulrich ignored him as he shrugged out of his robe, letting it drop to the ground around his feet.

"Stay close," he said, as he waded out into the water. Behind him he heard Odd's robe drop, and the splash of his partner entering the water with him. Wading out, Ulrich got as far as chest deep into the water before pushing off and starting to swim. He kept the castle in sight with every kick and stroke, using the sight of it growing ever closer as his motivation to keep moving. He was constantly tempted to check back, to see if there were any soldiers watching their progress, preparing to take them down before they could reach the castle, but Ulrich knew that to look back would only slow them down, and right now that was the last thing they needed.

At one point during the swim, Odd started to pass Ulrich, flashing his partner a grin as he took the lead.

_Damn it, Odd, _Ulrich thought, scowling at the blond, _This isn't a game!_ But even as he thought it, Ulrich sped up, trying to overtake the other boy. It was in this way, with them constantly trying to pass one another, that they made it to the castle in what Ulrich was sure had to be record time.

Climbing out of the water along the narrow ledge of earth that surrounded the castle, they shook the water out of their eyes and checked their weapons, and then began to work their way towards the castle's side entrance—a small door set into the castle's southwest wall, only accessible via the water.

"Look," Odd whispered, placing a hand on Ulrich's arm and pointing to the locking mechanism on the door. It appeared to have been smashed apart, probably in a sneak attack from the army. Scowling at the damage, Ulrich drew his sword and took a step back, sizing up the door. He then, with a single, powerful kick, sent it flying open. When no one came charging out of the door to attack them, Ulrich shared a quick look with Odd, and then darted into the castle.

Only to throw up his sword to stop another sword from taking off his head. A moment later, and the soldier, who had been hiding behind the wall, waiting to strike, crumpled to the ground.

"That was close," Odd observed as he pulled his knife from the soldier's back. He then had to jump back as another soldier jumped out, swinging wildly at Odd. The blond ducked out of the way, giving Ulrich the opening he needed to quickly dispatch he man. And with that, the pair leapt into the fray. Whirling, Ulrich's blade sliced through on man's armor, sending him stumbling off, clutching at his stomach. Staying with the momentum of his attack, Ulrich took out two more men who were lunging towards him together, hoping to double team him. Ulrich allowed himself a satisfied smirk as they crumpled to the ground. However, the smirk vanished at the sound of a battle cry being hollered from behind him. Spinning around, Ulrich's eyes widened as he was met with the sight of another solider barreling down on him.

"Watch out!"

The shout was followed by the soldier stumbling once, his eyes going wide with surprise, and then falling to the ground. A moment later, and a grinning Noemie appeared, snagging her throwing knife from the soldier's neck.

"Hey Ulrich," she greeted, "did your mission go well?"

"Yeah, great," Ulrich said. "What's going on?"

"King's army," Noemie explained. "They just showed up here and started attacking. No idea how they found us. Where are Jeremy and Aelita?"

"Outside, taking out the soldiers waiting to come in and have their turn at the fight." Noemie's eyes widened.

"There're more of them?" he asked. Her expression hardened when Ulrich nodded. "Great."

"Where's Emily?" Ulrich asked.

"She's with Romain and Nicholas, defending the southeast wall. They were supposed to go and protect the Leader, but they haven't gotten a chance yet—the attack at the gate is never ending."

"Odd and I will take care of it," Ulrich said. "You keep up the defense down here."

"You got it," Noemie said, grinning her thanks. As she turned back to the fight, Ulrich made his way over to Odd, who was currently shooting close range arrows at the soldier's trying to cross into the main bailey.

"Hey Ulrich," the blond said. "How's it going?"

"I just talked to Noemie," Ulrich said. "She says that no one is protecting the Leader. I told her you and me would take care of it."

"Sounds good," Odd said, firing off another shot, which caught one of the soldiers through the gap between his breast plate and his helmet. "I'm amazing," Odd informed Ulrich.

"Come on," Ulrich said. "We need to get up to that tower."

"Yeah, yeah."

Stuffing his bow back into his quiver, Odd fell in behind Ulrich as he led the way towards the tower. When Ulrich reached the tower, he didn't take the time to circle around to the door—rather, he simply used his momentum to carry him up the first few steps up the wall, after which he dug his fingers into the stones and began to climb.

"Yes!" Odd cried behind him, scrambling up the wall as well.

The pair surged up the wall, moving as deftly over the stone as they would over solid ground. In no time they were at one of the window sills leading into the tower's lower level. Ulrich held a hand out, signaling Odd to stop and wait while he carefully raised his head, peering through the glass and into the Leader's library.

A towering, over stuffed bookshelf met Ulrich's gaze. Scowling, Ulrich shifted, trying to see around the shelf, however nothing but dusty books found their way into his line of vision. With a frustrated sound, Ulrich ducked back down. Odd flashed him a curious look.

"What did you see?" he whispered.

"Nothing," Ulrich hissed back. "There's a book shelf in the way."

"Maybe we should try another window?" Ulrich shook his head.

"No time. We need to get inside."

"Without being able to see what we're facing?" Odd asked. Ulrich sighed softly.

"What other choice do we have? Besides, if we can't see the enemy, then they can't see us."

"That's terrible logic," Odd informed him. Ulrich raised an eyebrow.

"Do you know how strange it is having you tell me that?" he asked. Odd's response was a shrug.

"Are we getting in there or what?"

"Yeah," Ulrich said. Turning back to the window, he rested his hand lightly against the glass. Pushing against it cautiously, he breathed a silent sigh of relief when the window shifted, swinging slightly open. With a quick signal to Odd to stay quiet, Ulrich continued to nudge the window further open. As soon as there was enough space, Ulrich rose up onto the sill and slipped into the room beyond. Dust billowed up from the carpet with he landed, the small cloud swirling around his ankles for a moment before skinning back to the ground.

Stepping carefully, Ulrich inched along the space between two towering bookshelves, eyes darting every which way as he scanned for any sign of others in the room with him. The soft sound of fabric against stone told him that Odd had joined him, the boy's nearly soundless footsteps carrying him down the aisle beside the one Ulrich was in. Together they moved in unison, edging ever closer to the center of the room.

When they emerged from their respective aisles, they exchanged glances, the single look conveying all they needed to share—_there's no one in here._ Looking around the room again, Ulrich scanned for any hint as to where the Leader could be, and whether or not he had someone else with him. His eyes alighted briefly on the trapdoor leading to the tower stairs, but he quickly dismissed them. If the Leader had needed to escape, the stairs would have been at the bottom of a long list of other possible escape routes.

A light touch from Odd drew Ulrich's attention back to his partner, who was pointing up to the ceiling, a curious look on his face. _Upstairs? _the look asked. Ulrich nodded once, slowly. _Maybe._

Turning together, Odd fell into step behind Ulrich as the brunet led the way across the room, heading for the side opposite to where they'd come in. As they drew closer, Ulrich was able to make out a set of steps, wooden and ladder like, extending from a trapdoor opening in the ceiling that ran nearly flush with the wall. Looking up at the ladder, Ulrich held his hand out to Odd, motioning for him to stop, before pointing to himself and then up the ladder.

_You stay here, _his actions said. _I'm going up._ Odd blinked, and then scowled.

_By yourself?_ Ulrich tapped his mouth.

_I'll call you if I need you._ Odd frowned for a moment longer, then sighed.

_Fine._

Giving Odd a small, placating smile, Ulrich turned back to the ladder. Eyes trained on the opening in the ceiling, he crept slowly forwards, always watching to make sure there was no one watching him from the open trap door. When he reached the base of the ladder he glanced back at Odd. The blond had his bow out in one hand, and arrow in the other as he watched Ulrich for any sign of unwanted company. Ulrich motioned up the ladder with a flick of his finger.

_I'm going up._ Odd nodded.

_I've got your back._

Returning his attention to the trapdoor above, Ulrich began making his way carefully up the ladder, gingerly moving from step to step so as to be sure not to make a single sound. Reaching the top of the ladder, Ulrich lifted his head just far enough into the room to get a look at what he was up against—

And immediately had to hold back the urge to duck right back out of sight.

Laying sprawled across the floor in the room was the Leader, face down on the floor, the ivory hilt of his knife just visible from where it protruded from between the man's shoulder blades. And standing over him, his back to Ulrich, was one of the imperial soldiers. The man's armor looked familiar, yet Ulrich couldn't quite place it. He quickly shooed such thoughts away, however, knowing that they would serve only to distract him.

Moving silently and keeping to a low crouch, Ulrich crept all the way into the room, keeping against the wall as he inched further into the room. It seemed the soldier hadn't yet noticed him, being too preoccupied with the body at his feet. That was fine with Ulrich. The longer he went unnoticed, the better.

Ulrich's hand shifted towards his sword hilt as he moved into a position to attack. Leaning forward, Ulrich began to slip his sword slowly from its sheath. Still, the man had failed to notice him. Ulrich's sword was almost free—in only a few moments he would be parting the soldier's head from its body.

When the soldier suddenly whirled around, Ulrich was only able to dodge the knife he threw with a combination of instinct and pure, dumb luck. He could feel the blade as it rushed past his face, stumbling away from it with a surprised shout as it thudded into the wall where he had only just been standing.

Now that he was facing his adversary, Ulrich suddenly remembered why he'd seemed familiar—it was the officer from the woods that he and Odd had spied on earlier that day. The man was a much more terrifying sight up close and personal—the rage on his face over being snuck up on amplified frighteningly by his strange red eyes. Red eyes that were now fixed on Ulrich as the man reached for his waist, where more knives sat, waiting to be used. Shifting his weight, Ulrich prepared to dodge another of the man's attacks.

An attack that never came. Before the soldier could reach his weapon he jerked back, crying out in pain as an arrow shaft materialized at his shoulder. Ulrich blinked in surprise at the sight, his gaze darting back to the trap door to be met with the sight of Odd, emerging through the opening from the waist up, another arrow already notched into his drawn bow.

"Who are you?" the blond demanded. When the soldier spun to stare at him, Odd shifted his aim so that the arrow was pointing at the man's throat.

"You heard the man," Ulrich said, lifting his sword defensively. "Tell us who you are."

"And what you're doing here," Odd added. The soldier glanced between the two, clearly sizing them up. When the soldier turned his focus solely on Ulrich Odd tightened his grip on his weapon. The soldier noticed, and surprised both boys by laughing.

"You think your little sticks are enough to stop me?" the soldier asked.

"Yes," Odd said simply. When the soldier's expression turned amused, Odd focused his gaze on the arrow in the soldier's shoulder. The soldier glanced down at the arrow and laugh again.

"This?" he said, motioning to the arrow with a dismissive wave of his hand, "this is but a scratch." He then reached up and, to Ulrich's surprise, wrenched the arrow from his shoulder. Blood splattered across the room as he tossed the weapon aside, the arrow clattering harmlessly off across the floor. Struggling not to gape, Ulrich glanced at Odd. The blond looked just as taken aback as Ulrich felt. Their shock seemed only to amuse the solider all the more.

"You're insane," Ulrich spat. The soldier fixed him with a terrifying grin.

"So I've been told."

Ulrich shifted uncomfortably, unnerved by this man who seemed to be truly certifiable. Certifiable, and the leader of an entire army, by the looks of his uniform. _What kind of person puts a lunatic like him in charge of armed troops?_ Ulrich wondered.

"Well," the solider said, interrupting Ulrich's thoughts, "this has been an interesting meeting. But now I think I've over stayed my welcome, so if you'll excuse me—" A soft _twang _cut the soldier off just as he started to take a step back, an arrow whizzing just past his ear to imbed its self firmly in the wall behind him.

"Move again, and the next one hits," Odd warned, as he placed another arrow into his bow. The soldier looked faintly shocked by the attack, his crimson eyes shifting to look at the blond.

"You know," the soldier said, "you're a pretty good shot." Odd's lip curled.

"So I've been told." The soldier blinked, looking momentarily surprised by the assassin's use of own words, before laughing loudly.

"I like you," the soldier said, grinning as he pointed at Odd. "You're a funny guy."

"And you're a dead man," Ulrich said. "I'll ask you once more—who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"Me?" the man said, laying a hand across his chest. Ulrich fixed him with a dark look. The soldier sighed. "If you insist," he said. "I am the leader of this little army."

"And why are you and your army here?" Odd asked. The soldier turned to the blond.

"I was ordered to attack you," he said. Ulrich's eyes widened.

"By who?" he asked.

"Who do you think?" the soldier asked. When Ulrich didn't respond, he motioned to the royal insignia on his chest. "The King."

_The King?_ Ulrich thought in surprise. _That doesn't make sense._ While not exactly a friend of Lyoko, King Delmas had never acted hostile towards the warriors. As long as they left the policing of the upper-class and royalty to the King, the King turned a blind eye to their existence. At least he had, until now. But what would set off this kind of unexpected attack against Lyoko?

Realization struck Ulrich like a physical blow—the mission, the one he and Odd had taken with Aelita and Jeremy. Ulrich had thought it was strange they were going after someone in the castle, but he'd assumed it must have been ordered by the King—why else would the Leader send them into the castle. Certainly he, more than any one, knew how precarious a relationship Lyoko had with the King. Odd seemed to have reached this same conclusion, as he flashed Ulrich a bewildered look.

_Is he saying what I think he is? _the look asked. Ulrich returned it with a small, helpless shrug.

_I don't know._

The moment of silent conversation was brief, the pair hardly devoting two seconds to the little exchange. Yet it was enough.

A knife hurtling through the air had Odd stumbling back with a startled yelp, the blond nearly toppling down the ladder he was still perched on as he dodged the flying weapon. With a curse, Ulrich jerked his attention back to the soldier, to find that the man was darting across the room, away from the two killers.

_And towards the window,_ Ulrich realized. Bolting after the soldier, Ulrich hefted his sword over his shoulder. Despite his head start, Ulrich gained quickly on the man, the distance between them easily vanishing. With a shout, Ulrich swung his blade forward, aiming for the soldier's neck—

Only to have his sword slice through empty air.

Stumbling forward with the momentum of a swing meant to be stopped by a body, Ulrich stared wide eyed at the space where the soldier had only just stood. Space that was now occupied by nothing but an open window.

Cursing again, Ulrich stuck his head out the window. He quickly spotted the soldier standing on the wall top below. The soldier was looking back up at the window, and when he spotted Ulrich he grinned, waving cheerily.

"Come on, Odd!" Ulrich shouted, taking a few steps back from the window.

"You're going after him?" Odd asked.

"Of course I am," Ulrich said.

"You do realize you're about to jump out of a window, right?"

"Yes," Ulrich said, sizing up the distance.

"A really high window?"

"Yes, Odd," Ulrich sighed. He glanced back at Odd. "Are you coming with me or not?" he snapped. Odd's response was a wide grin.

"I like this plan."

Ulrich took that as a yes, as well as his signal to get going. With two running strides he was at the window, one foot landing on the ledge and propelling him up and out, through the opening and into the open air. For one long moment he was in free-fall, and then the battlements were rushing up to meet him. Ulrich landed in a crouch, shifting seamlessly into a roll that had him popping back up on his feet. As soon as he was up, he was searching for the red eyed soldier.

"Where did he go?" Ulrich barked, scanning the empty wall top.

"I'm thinking down." When Ulrich looked at Odd in confusion, the blond motioned to the grappling hook hanging from one of the battlements, the rope on its end dangling down the castle's outside wall.

"Why would he go down there?" Ulrich asked, walking over to the wall. "That just leads to…the…moat?"

"Is that a question?" Odd asked.

"They built a bridge over the moat," Ulrich said, pointing down.

"It…looks more like a bunch of conveniently placed planks of wood," Odd observed.

"Whatever it is," Ulrich said, "that guy's using it to escape."

"Not for long," Odd said. Raising his bow, he took aim at the soldier just as he reached the end of the rickety bridge substitute. The arrow released with a _twang_, arcing out over the moat and down towards the soldier. Odd cheered when it hit.

"Not so fast," Ulrich said. "I don't think your aim was as good as you think."

"What?" Odd asked, looking down. Ulrich pointed to the soldier, who had spun around and was glaring up at the two killers, clutching his pierced arm. Odd frowned. "I almost had him," he said.

"Almost doesn't cut it, Odd," Ulrich said. "We need to stop him."

"And we will," Odd responded. He then vaulted over the wall, sliding down the rope hanging there and vanishing from sight. Ulrich blinked, gaping at the spot where Odd had disappeared from. He then shook his head, climbing up onto the wall and following after his partner.

They landed one right after the other atop the wood planks turned bridge, and wasted no time in crossing over them to reach the mainland. They weren't very sturdy, and they wobbled and buckled worryingly as the pair darted across them. Odd sighed once they were back on solid land, pulling face at the boards.

"Sorry excuse for a bridge," he said. Ulrich rolled his eyes.

"Less insulting the architecture, more finding our target."

"Yeah, yeah," Odd said. "There he goes!" Ulrich looked in the direction Odd was pointing, his expression hardening as he spotted the man. He was running towards the edge of the woods, heading for an area that looked like the dumping sight for the army's supplies. Supplies which included—

"Horses," Ulrich gasped, and then cursed. "Odd, he's getting a horse."

"So?" Odd asked. "We'll just get one too." Grinning at his partner, Odd picked up his pace, bolting past Ulrich. The brunet stared after Odd, and then sighed.

"You're going to get us killed," he shouted after him.

"Am not!" Odd shouted back.

To Ulrich's surprise, he was right. He had expected to be met at the supplies by at least half a dozen soldiers whose job was to guard against anyone doing exactly what it was Odd and Ulrich trying to do. Instead, he and Odd were met by half a dozen guards who were laying sprawled around on the ground, all of them tinged a familiar blue color.

"Looks like Jeremy was here," Odd observed as he picked his way around the bodies, heading for the first horse wearing a bridle and saddle. When he reached the horse he hesitated, glancing back at Ulrich as he asked, "Where do you think they are now?"

"Knowing them? Ulrich said, "probably already inside the castle. I'm sure they're fine, Odd," he added, when Odd's expression turned sullen. "And one we've taken care of our crazy friend, we'll come back and find them, okay?" Odd sighed, but nodded.

"Yeah, okay." Ulrich smiled at his partner, although it quickly vanished when he noticed Odd lifting his foot into the horse's stirrup.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"…Getting on the horse?" Odd tried.

"Not like that, you're not." Odd fixed Ulrich with a confused look, which Ulrich answered by walking over and nudging Odd aside. He then lifted himself into the saddle.

"Hey," Odd snapped, "go get your own horse!"

"We're riding together," Ulrich said. "It'll be easier for you to shoot if someone else is steering." Odd scowled for a moment, but then relented.

"Fine," he huffed, before climbing on behind Ulrich. As soon as he was seated, Ulrich turned the horse in the direction the soldier had taken and kicked it into action. With a sound of surprise, the horse took off, galloping through the trees, heading for the distant sight of the soldier up ahead. The ground vanished bellow the horse's pounding hooves, the animal effortlessly chewing up the distance between them and their prey.

"Ulrich, get down," Odd commanded, pressing against Ulrich's shoulder with one hand Ulrich did as he was told, glancing back over his shoulder to watch as Odd raised his bow and took aim. "Eyes forward," the blond said, when he noticed Ulrich's gaze.

"Look at him, not me," Ulrich responded.

"Looking at him won't do me any good if you run us into a tree!"

"Just shoot him already!"

"In your sleep!" Odd shouted, completely out of habit.

"Like to see you try!" Ulrich instinctively responded back.

"Stay down," Odd said, "I'm firin—ah!" The blond cut off with a surprised sound, jerking to the side slightly.

"What happened?" Ulrich demanded.

"He's throwing more knives!" Odd shouted, just as up ahead the soldier spun around in his saddle again and tossed another blade. Both Ulrich and Odd ducked down to avoid the deadly projectile. However, it wasn't the assassins that were the soldier's target.

The horse let out a frightening pained sound as it was struck by the knife, its front legs buckling, sending Ulrich and Odd toppling forward. Ulrich rolled over the horse's neck, landing in the dirt in front of the creature. He scrambled away quickly to avoid the creature's thrashing head, and then looked back to see Odd barely avoid being crushed under the animal as it fell onto its side. They both moved away from the horse, which continued to kick and thrash for a few more moments before finally succumbing to the blade protruding from its chest.

Breathing hard, Ulrich stared at the horse for a few seconds before turning to Odd, checking the boy over for any obvious injuries. There was only one glaringly apparent—the gash across his upper arm, which oozed blood. Narrowing his eyes, Ulrich motioned to Odd's arm as he asked,

"His blade caught you?"

"Huh?" Odd asked, turning to look at Ulrich. Ulrich again motioned to Odd's arm, the blond tilting his head to look at it. "Oh," he said, looking surprised. "Yeah, I guess he did."

"Let me look at it," Ulrich said, reaching towards Odd's arm. He scowled when the blond pulled away from him. "What?" he asked.

"Later," Odd said. "We still have to catch that guy."

"Odd," Ulrich said slowly, "we're not going to catch up with him right now. In case you hadn't noticed, he's still got a horse." The blond opened his mouth to argue, but Ulrich raised his hand, cutting him off. "It's not like we don't know where he's going," he continued. "Once we're fixed up, we'll follow his trail. Hopefully we can get him before he gets back to the castle." Odd nodded, his expression hardening.

"And then we'll make him tell us why the King had us attacked."

"Exactly," Ulrich said. He then held out his hand. "We'll get out answers, avenge the Leader, and then come back and help the others clean up this mess." At Ulrich's words, Odd pulled a face.

"How about we come back _after _the others clean up this mess?" Ulrich sighed, but a smile was tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Just give me your arm, would you?" he asked.


	7. They Live in You

**I recieved some favorable feedback on this story (you know who you are!) so I figured I should at least make an effort to keep it going. Shortish chapter that really just gets into the legends idea that's supposed to kind of weave through the story as it (hopefully) progresses. Please let me know what you think!**

**Dedicated to Lord Brashugon for his reminder that there are people who like this story still, and to RenaYumi for "I will finish this today!"ing with me.**

* * *

The sounds of fighting echoed from below, weapons clanging and screams renting the air at the assassins continued to battle against the seemingly innumerable soldiers. The reports from Milly and Tamia, carried back and forth across the battle field by the skilled spies, were fewer and far between. The last one, brought to Aelita's tower almost an hour ago by a slightly shell-shocked looking Milly, her hair matted with blood and soil, detailed in Romain's rushed hand the final breech of the barbican and his group's retreat back into the castle.

Rereading the words Aelita sighed. Although she hadn't received any more correspondences, she'd seen from her tower window as the assassins had continued their retreat through the wall splitting the castle courtyard, barricading themselves into the main bailey and the main building beyond. She was now effectively cut off from the others, her tower opposite where her fellow assassins were hidden away.

This was intentional, however. After all, Aelita had something very special hidden within her tower.

"Is the fighting almost over?" a small voice asked, interrupting Aelita's musings. She looked up over the note in her hand to the pair of wide eyes looking up at her. The little girl was one of almost twenty children crammed into the Aelita's tower, in the room over the lab that served as her and Jeremy's personal quarters. Both beds were cluttered with the children, the smaller ones clinging to the older as they listened with frightened gazes to the fighting happening below.

Corralling them in the tower had been Jeremy's idea, and he'd helped Aelita gather them together and get them into the lab. But the sounds of fighting had followed them up the stairs, and they'd both realized that if they didn't act quickly their attempt to protect the children was going to make them easy targets instead.

Jeremy hadn't said anything to her, simply took her hand in his, met her gaze, and handed her a vial of something brilliantly pink.

And then he was heading back out of the lab, grabbing vials and powders from the tables as he went. Aelita quickly cataloged the elements and compounds he'd gathered and, realizing his intention, turned the kids towards the ladder in the back of the lab. They'd reached the bedroom, and Aelita was just shouting for them to get under the beds, when the explosion shook the tower. Little voices cried out in panic and Aelita called comforting things even as she darted back into the lab.

She was met by a wall of thick smoke, wafting up through the trapdoor across the room.

"Jeremy!" she called, moving towards the door, knocked open in the blast. She hesitated, eyeing the smoke, then moved to the window instead and looked out.

A pile of stone rubble covered what had once been the door to the tower, the tip of a sword and a crumpled helmet protruding from the rocks.

There was no sign of her fellow scientist.

Aelita hovered in the lab, waiting for a blonde head to emerge from the trapdoor for as long as she could, but eventually the terrified cries of frightened children called her back to the bedroom. She'd been with the children for hours, telling them stories and showing them little tricks with the few compounds she could find in Jeremy's bedside table. Milly and Tamia's visits had been exciting for the children, but they'd grown fewer and far between, until it was only Milly coming and then no one at all.

And after every visit and every message Aelita received, a pair of wide eyes and tiny hands would crawl over and ask the same question as the little girl now leaning against Aelita's legs.

"Almost, little one," Aelita whispered, same as always as she gently ruffled the little girl's blonde hair. "Almost." Outside the fighting changed, seemed to intensify and grow louder, but Aelita ignored it, not allowing it to undermine the lie she told the little girl.

"Will you tell us another story?" another voice asked, this one a young boy. Outside someone screamed, a female voice that Aelita thought sounded familiar. She tuned it out before her mind could match the cry to a name.

"Sure," she said, forcing another smile as she motioned for everyone to gather around. They piled on the bed with her, rolling themselves in Jeremy's blue blanket and stuffing the few spaces between one another with pillows.

"What story would you like to hear?"Aelita asked.

"A legend," a little girl offered. "A Lyoko legend." Little nods rippled through the group as they agreed and shuffled ever closer. Over their little voices Aelita could hear fighting on the battlements. It was getting close to the tower.

"Okay," Aelita said. She shifted, feeling the weight of her dagger at her hip even as he curled her arms around the children sitting closest to her. "Do any of you know how the Lyoko warriors have such amazing abilities?"

"Because they practice a lot?"

"Yes," Aelita said, smiling at the little boy. "But it's also because of the original warriors. There were five original warriors who first established the Order of Lyoko, and it is from them that we gain our skills. Does anyone know who the original warriors were?"

Little hands lifted into the hair and, at Aelita's encouragement, a little red headed girl answered.

"One is the…the scientist," she said, looking to Aelita for confirmation. Aelita noticed the girl hesitated when she heard the sound of a blast outside so she smiled encouragingly, hoping to keep the girl's mind of the ever increasing fighting.

"Who else?" she asked.

"There was a soldier, and a…an archer," the girl said, "And a spy and the…" she trailed off and the boy beside her finished her thought.

"And a princess!" he said. Aelita grinned.

"Right! The original warriors were a scientist, a soldier, an archer, a dancer, and a princess. And they each had a special skill."

Another blast sounded outside, and this time the tower shook with the explosion. A few of the children looked around, eyes wide with fright, but Aelita repeated her question to keep their attention.

"Wisdom," one little boy finally ventured. "And…strength."

"Right," Aelita said. The tower shook again, the sound of voices just outside. Carefully, so as to not alert the kids, Aelita's hand moved to her dagger. "What are the other ones?"

"Precision," someone guessed.

"Grace," said another.

"And Dignity," Aelita finished.

The tower shook again, the shouts now sounding in the stairwell.

"These are the traits of every good warrior," Aelita said, and as she spoke her gaze traveled across a few of the older children gathered with her. Their gazes glowed with fear, but also something else, and she could see their little hands hovering near weapons.

Lyoko warriors started young, after all.

Aelita felt a surge of pride in these assassins, barely fledged, who were still willing to fight. She could see their strength, and their dignity, and it made her chest burn with something she couldn't quite identify.

"Does anyone know how the Lyoko warriors passed these essential traits on to the future generations?" she asked. Everyone continued to focus on her, despite their terror filled gazes as soldier's voices burst into the lab below.

Milly's lack of communications made sense now. It seemed that the assassins had finally lost their ground to the invading troops, worn down by numbers they'd never seen coming. Rising up, Aelita moved towards the bedroom's one door, he dagger in hand. Behind her soft footfalls told her that some of the children had joined her, their own weapons being drawn.

"Stay strong," she said, eyes narrowed as she faced the door, and the stamping boots and shouting voices beyond. Above their noise she asked, "So, does anyone know how an assassin passes their traits to the next generation?"

Something exploded below, and the room's trapdoor blew open. Aelita, lifting her dagger, answered her own question as the battle she'd been trying to hide away from finally came to her.

"By dying."

* * *

It was after nightfall by the time Odd and Ulrich lost the crazed knight's trail. They'd made good time without their horse, despite the dense forest vegetation and Odd's injury, but eventually Ulrich had forced a halt, not wanting Odd to aggravate his injury too much, despite the blonde's protests.

"It's fine," he said, from where he was sprawled against a tree. "It doesn't even hurt that much, and it stopped bleeding hours ago."

"That's no reason to test it more than you have to," Ulrich said. He was crouched over a small pile of sticks, attempting to light it.

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

"Shut up, Odd," Ulrich said, just as a spray of sparks jumped from the flint he was striking down his sword. They showed the wood and he froze, staring at the little embers as they glowed, brightened, then faded away.

"I thought you said this stop wouldn't waste valuable time," Odd deadpanned as Ulrich blew on the slightly smoking tinder, to no avail.

"Sleep lightly, Odd," Ulrich warned. "And it's not like we don't know where the knight is going. His troops were dressed in Carthage colors, and his trail was heading for the path into town. We won't catch him before he reaches the castle, but at least we know where to look for him."

"Do you really think we're going to get that guy once he's tucked away in the castle?" Odd asked. Ulrich shrugged.

"We have to do something," Ulrich said. "We need to find out why he was attacking Lyoko, after all."

"And why he was breaking our truce?" Odd added. Ulrich sighed, pausing in his fire lighting attempts to look up at his friend.

"I've been trying to understand that this whole time," he said, expression pensive. "I mean, I know the truce isn't exactly official or anything, but I can't figure out what motive the King would have for attacking us like this."

"Looks like there's things going on inside that castle we don't know about," Odd said.

"Things we need to look into," Ulrich agreed. He frowned, thoughts whirling across his face. He then sighed, and turned back to his fire making attempts. When his actions produced just another useless spray Odd made an annoyed sound.

"Would you just get over here and leave it," he said. "We don't need a fire, it's not even cold out."

"I need the light to look at your arm," Ulrich said, although he scattered the unlit pile of wood with his sword tip and joined Odd by his tree.

"My arm's the least of our worries," Odd said. He fell silent, and Ulrich could practically hear the worry buzzing in his partner's mind.

"Hey, you know the legends," Ulrich said, looking for something to say that would help settled Odd's mind. "The warriors are with them."

"You don't believe the legends," Odd said.

"But you do," Ulrich said.

"I do," Odd agreed. "But that's because they're real."

"You do know the legends don't make sense, right?" Ulrich asked. It wasn't a real question—they'd had this conversation a hundred times, and they'd stopped trying to convince one another a long time ago.

"Once upon a time," Odd started, ignoring his partner, "There were five powerful warriors, each with a different skill. They worked together, using their skills to defeat evil and protect the land. But," Odd continued, waving his finger for emphasis, "the warriors could not live forever. So they began to train new warriors, who would take their place after they were gone. To help the new warriors, the magician—"

"Scientist," Ulrich corrected.

"Who's telling this legend, you or me?" Odd asked. Ulrich ignored him, and Odd continued, "The magician used his magic so that when the old warriors died, their skills would be transferred to the new warriors."

"Which makes so much sense," Ulrich said.

"It is because of the magician's spell," Odd continued, unhindered, "that the Lyoko warriors continue to exemplify the skills of wisdom, strength, precision, grace, and dignity. And why the warriors still have the ability to pass their skills on to the next generations."

"By making them practice?" Ulrich tried. Odd turned his head to frown at the brunet.

"It's true, you know," he said. "Remember what happened when my sisters died?"

Of course, everyone remembered when the Della Robbia sisters died. The most skilled archers the Lyoko warriors had ever seen, the girls were a veritable miracle of archery. Their loss had his the Lyoko warriors especially hard.

Now Odd, despite his skilled lineage, had never quite lived up the hype expected of him after his sisters. Odd with a bow and arrow was kind of like Ulrich was a dinner date—a rare occurrence that, when it did happen, ended in painful failure for at least one person, usually more. Odd had resented his lack of skills, and Ulrich had resented his lack of a skilled partner.

But everything changed the day his sisters passed. Odd's skill level in archery sky rocketed, and while Ulrich continued to argue that is was due to Odd's practicing, and that the blonde had been getting better anyway, Odd firmly believed that his new found skill was a final gift from his dearly departed sisters and would not be convinced otherwise.

Yet, despite his own doubts concerning the legends, Ulrich accepted that they were Odd's way of coping with his loss and with the danger and uncertainty of the assassin life they lived and so didn't mind discussing it now, when he knew Odd needed the comfort as he worried about their friends back at the castle.

"I'm sure they're fine, Odd," Ulrich said, after Odd had fallen silent for a while. "Aelita and Jeremy aren't stupid. They can handle themselves in a fight."

"That was a big fight," Odd countered. "And it's not just Aelita and Jeremy I'm worried about."

"They're all trained fighters, Odd. They know how to handle themselves. Even Herve," Ulrich added. Despite his worry, Odd laughed.

"You're right," he sighed. "It's just…I have a dinner date, remember?" Ulrich's eyes rolled and he grinned at his friend.

"Don't worry. You and Aelita will make your dinner date. It's just been a little delayed is all."

"A little?" Odd asked.

"You know what I mean," Ulrich sighed. "We'll catch this guy, figure out what he's doing attacking Lyoko, and then we'll go home. Okay?"

"Where everyone is fine, because they're all trained fighters," Odd agreed. He hesitated a moment and then added, at a whisper, "I just don't understand why this is happening."

"Neither do I," Ulrich agreed. "But we're going to figure it out. I promise."

"Okay," Odd said. The blonde settled more comfortably against the tree and Ulrich did the same, their shoulders touching as they settled in for a brief rest. Just enough to get their energy back, they silently agreed, and then they would keeping moving, to Carthage. They would find out what was happening to Lyoko.

They had to.


	8. Be Prepared

**Buh-bam! We're almost like, halfway through this puppy. That's awesome. Anyway, this chapter focuses on Jim and Xana and giving some meat to their whole part of the plot. Xana's such a buttface, I love it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and faved and alerted this story since the last chapter, you're amazing and I love you.**

**Dedicated to Tumblr, for distracting me with non-code Lyoko themed puzzles even though they totally seem like they should be about CL. And to Rena for puzzling with me.**

* * *

Hooves thundered across the drawbridge as pre dawn light filtered into the barbican. Guards scattered to avoid being trampled by the charging horse and its armored rider. As soon as he was within the castle walls the knight dismounted, leaving his horse for the guards to take care of.

"Lord Xana," one of the men called when he realized the identity of the knight, "Has your expedition already ended?"

"Where is Captain Morales?" Xana asked, already stalking off down a dimly lit corridor. The clop of his horse's hooves echoed after him as the guards struggled to settle the sweat soaked animal.

"He should be in his quarters," the guard said as he hurried after Xana. "Sir—Sir, you're wounded! You should head to the infirmary immediately—"

"Have the Captain sent to my offices, would you," Xana said, ignoring the guard.

"But Sir—" The guard reached out, his fingers brushing Xana's sleeve.

In a moment Xana had whirled on the man, his large hand wrapping around the guard's throat as he pinned him against the wall. The hall fell silent save for the guard's weak, strangled sounds.

"I believe I gave you an order, did I not?" Xana asked. The guard did his best to nod while still in Xana's grip. "Then go execute it. I don't want to see you again until it's done. Do you understand?" The guard made a choking sound that Xana must have taken for assent because he released the man, letting him crumple to the floor in a gasping, pale heap.

"I want Captain Morales at my offices in ten minutes. Tell him it's urgent." After a moment, Xana added, "Feel free to send a nurse as well, but I'll expect no other interruptions for the remainder of the day. Do you understand?" The man on the floor nodded feebly. "Good."

With that Xana turned and continued down the corridor. As he walked he reached back, grasping the arrow in his shoulder and jerking it out. He felt blood pool under his armor but ignored it, holding the arrow up for examination. It looked faintly familiar but he couldn't quite place from where. He'd have to ask Morales about it.

Finishing the walk to his quarters quickly, Xana headed for the chamber that served as the officers strategy room. It was a simple, windowless room with a single small door. The only light came from a trio of torches mounted in the center of the table that filled the room, which already flickered with light. Maps and diagrams covered the walls, the newest of which showed the woods outside of the Carthage in detail. A red X marked the place on the map where Xana had just orchestrated his raid.

Catching the leg of a chair with his foot, Xana dropped into the seat, a heavy sigh escaping him as he settled. Slowly Xana begin to unbuckle his armor, dropping pieces to the table as he shed them. It was as Xana was examining the armor plate from his shoulder that Captain Jim Morales entered.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" he said. His eyes fell to the bloodied, damaged armor in Xana's hands as he spoke.

"Come in Captain, come in," Xana said, gesturing around. "Take a seat."

"Did the raid go okay?" Jim asked.

"What do you think?" Xana asked conversationally.

"I don't know," Jim said. "You didn't exactly invite me to go with you." Jim scowled as he spoke. Xana, who seemed to understand the frustration in his Captain's voice, offered a placating smile.

"I needed you here," he said. "Those assassins aren't an easy target, and we lost a lot of men today. I can't afford for you to have been one of them."

"So you've said. You never explained why, though."

Xana didn't respond to Jim's obvious probing. Rather, his attention fell back to the armor in his hands, which he scrutinized closely. After a moment he turned it to show Jim. "Do you see that nick?" he asked. Jim, who'd remained standing thus far, moved closer to take a look.

The nick Xana was referring to was really more of a slice in the armor, an almost four inch slit rising up from the edge of the armor plate. Still drying blood surrounded the break.

"What caused that, a dagger?" Jim asked, taking a seat beside the knight to examine the armor more closely.

"An arrow," Xana said, handing the plate over. Jim looked up in surprise.

"From how close?"

"Ten feet, about," Xana said. From the pile of armor on the table he produced the arrow from his shoulder, handing it over as well. "This was the weapon."

"It's certainly Lyoko quality," Jim said, turning the shaft over in his hands.

"As was the archer," Xana agreed. "It's almost sad to know we're getting rid of them."

"They would never agree to join you," Jim said.

"They should have," Xana said, expression darkening. He could see the hint of admiration in the Captain's eyes. Jim had always seen the assassin's unwillingness to concede on their morals as an upstanding, almost honorable trait. Not that he was otherwise any kind of fan of the killers, luckily for Xana.

"You're back soon," Jim said, shifting the subject. "I would have thought the raid would take much longer."

"It's still ongoing," Xana said. He leaned back in his chair, allowing his exhaustion to show. "I accomplished what I needed, and was forced to leave. Franz Hopper is gone, and without his leadership any chance of survivors regrouping and moving against me are almost nonexistent. When the raid is over, I'll be letting you lead the searches to round up any survivors, by the way," Xana added.

"I'm honored," Jim said, and if Xana noted the slight sarcasm in the man's voice he ignored it.

"Captain," he said instead, "I have a question for you. A very important one."

"And what would that be?" Jim asked. Xana leaned forward folded hands resting on the table, and eyed his Captain closely. Jim did his best to not squirm under the uncomfortable scrutiny. After a long moment passed Xana started to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. The man's face turned red, and he looked like he was ready to shout, when he remembered the nurse the guard from earlier was supposed to send.

"Come in," he sighed, settling back into his chair. Despite the unwanted interruption Xana had to admit it was fortuitous timing. What he was about to discuss with his subordinate wasn't something he needed unwanted ears overhearing.

While the nurse worked on Xana's arrow wound Jim politely turned his attentions elsewhere. Rising up he wandered over to the maps tacked up across the walls. One, a massive thing done in a now fading array of different colored inks across heavy parchment paper, detailed all of the city of Carthage, along with the surrounding countryside in every direction.

Carthage, settled in the very center of the map, was the only true city for miles. Only a handful of tiny settlements marked the rest of the map, which was otherwise overtaken with detailed drawings of the topography all around.

The woods that pressed up against Carthage from the west took up a good portion of the map, and formed the temperate area within which the city thrived. The land in all other directions was much less hospitable, from the frozen tundra to the north to the vicious spine of a mountain range to the northeast. And to the south, spreading like a golden brown stain across the map, was the rolling dunes and unexplored sandstone cliffs of the desert.

A more detailed drawing of the forested section of the map had been recreated and placed along another wall, and it was this one that was crisscrossed in the red ink that Xana used to plan his raid on Lyoko. Red lines, like bloody slashes through the trees, marked the places where paths that had remained somehow secret would lead an army straight to the assassin base.

Once the nurse was gone Jim motioned to the red X on the map.

"What did their hideout look like?" he asked.

"Surprisingly conspicuous," Xana said, flexing his arm in its new bandage before pulling his shirt back on. They're in a castle out there, right on the lake. If you know the roads to take they lead you right to it."

"That's unexpected," Jim said. Xana nodded. He glanced over to the door and then motioned for Jim to rejoin him at the table.

"You had a question for me," Jim said as he retook his seat. Xana nodded.

"I need to know, are you still on my side?"

"You know I am," Jim said. Xana's head was shaking before the Captain had finished his sentence.

"You know that's not what I mean," Xana said. He fixed the man with a pointed look. "The time for action is drawing near. I need to know that I can still count on you to do what has to be done."

"I brought assassins into the castle and allowed them to kill one of the King's most trusted men," Jim said, his thoughts flashing back to the King's magistrate sitting slumped over his desk, skin tinged with poison. "Your plan, if I remember correctly."

"You did will," Xana said, nodding. "We needed a reason to wage our attack on Lyoko. An attack on the royal court was our best option."

"I helped you then," Jim said, "What makes you think I'm experiencing doubts now?"

"I don't believe you have doubts," Xana said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "This is a dangerous plan you and I are carrying out. I'm simply trying to help alleviate any worries you may have." Jim's response was a tired sigh, the man scrubbing a hand over his face.

"I'll just be glad when this is over."

"As will I," Xana said. "Everything will be fine once I take the throne." Jim nodded before leaning forward to prop his elbows on the table. Dropping his face into his hands, he said through his fingers,

"You know, you never did tell me how you planned on killing the King. Or how you were going to play it off. That doesn't seem like it's going to be exactly easy."

"It won't be, which is why I've made sure to plan well in advance."

"How?"

"You've heard, I'm sure, the current local gossip about a so called serial killer?"

"The Fan?" Jim asked, peering up at his companion. "I'd assumed that was one of your special forces operations, something to keep the rabble rousers under control."

"Yes and no," Xana said. "The Fan isn't one of ours, but she is working for me."

"She?" Jim asked, and then, "The woman from the other night, at the window. I thought she was just one of your spies."

"She's an assassin," Xana said, "And a damn good one at that. She came to our attention some time ago, but I'd assumed she was one of the Lyoko bunch."

"She isn't?"

"Freelance," Xana said. "One of the few willing to work in Lyoko territory, it seems. Her services don't come cheap, but she doesn't have any of the moral hang-ups the others come with. I've been paying her to take care of a few of the kingdom's more disruptive citizens."

"Was it your idea for her to leave the calling card then?" Jim asked.

"Very perceptive," Xana said, nodding his approval. "I did. I wanted her presence to be fairly established in the minds of the locals."

"You're going to pin the King's death on her."

A small smile pulled at the corner of Xana's lips, although his eyes remained cold as he eyed the man before him. He'd certainly chosen a decent ally in the man. Perceptive, and not afraid to mince words.

"Her targets have been growing increasingly more high profile. I don't think it would be that much of a leap for her to target the head of the snake, do you?"

"That takes care of the blame then," Jim said. "Now how about the actual execution?" Xana's hand vanished into his pocket before reemerging curled around a small vile. He set it on the table between them.

"I got it from Hopper before I killed him," he said. The liquid inside the vial was a brilliant blue-silver, and seemed to continue to swirl inside the vial even as it remained still on the table. "Only a few drops on a blade's edge, and the tiniest of cuts will finish the job."

The plan seemed foolproof enough to Jim, who'd followed the reports on Xana's assassin friend and her work. It was well thought out, really. The Fan's current string of increasingly high ranking victims would make her an easy target for the rage and sorrow that was going to wash over the people of Carthage when they found their king suddenly ripped away from them. And with the Lyoko warrior's supposedly unprovoked attack on the royal court still fresh in the minds of the palace and Xana's recently conducted raid, it was very unlikely they would be able to come in and stop Xana's assent to power.

"Once the King is dead, everything else will take care of its self," Xana said. "Without any heirs, Delmas is going to leave the throne unclaimed. In times like this, its court rule that the Head of the King's royal army take command, at least until a suitable replacement can be determined. Of course, once in control, I get to decide who the suitable replacement is, don't I?"

Xana leaned back in his chair, grinning in a way that Jim found slightly unnerving. Something of how he felt must have showed on his face, because Xana quickly added,

"Don't worry, you won't be forgotten in my ascension to power. I'll get to choose my replacement, after all. And I've also got a special assignment for you," Xana added, his eyes gleaming with a light that Jim decided looked decidedly unfriendly. It was the kind of dark glow the man's eyes got every time they talked about their plans, about Xana's ever closer rise to power.

"You do?"

"Of course. There's no one else I would rather trust this with," Xana said. "You see, some of the Lyoko assassins made to pursue me when I left their base, and I doubt they were the only ones to escape the fighting. If I'm going to have a safe and secure seat on the throne, and if I'm to be able to assure my people of their own safety, then someone needs to go out and round up the last of those assassins and finish them once and for all."

"You want _me_ to do this," Jim said. This was unexpected, they'd never discussed this part of Xana's plans.

"Not just you," Xana said, "You'll have a whole team of my most skilled at your disposal. Consider yourselves the King's personal guardians."

"I'm honored," Jim said, doing his best to hide his real feelings. He must have half succeeded, because Xana said,

"You look very tired, Captain Morales. Perhaps you should go back to your quarters and relax. I've given you quite a lot to think about, after all."

"You have," Jim agreed, rising to his feet. "Thank you Sir. I'm sure we'll talk again soon."

"We'll be in touch," Xana agreed. "Have a good rest." Jim saluted and then turned to leave.

He swore he could feel Xana's eyes boring into his back as he left the room, and he continued to feel the burn of the man's red eyed stare long after he'd left the war room behind him.

* * *

Jim spent the rest of the day locked in his personal quarters. Physically he spent the day relaxing, like Xana had told him to, but mentally he couldn't find a moment's rest. His mind whirled with everything Xana had told him, and with the plans they were about to enact. For months he and Xana had plotted in secret, preparing for this day, and yet now that it was here Jim wasn't so sure he was ready for it.

Sighing, Jim rose from his bed, where he'd been staring at the ceiling for the past hour. He made his way across his room and out onto its small, private balcony. It overlooked the castle gardens, a personal favorite location of Jim's. The garden's were lush and green, a place where the King could rest peacefully during the day. To Jim, the gardens represented everything right about the kingdom and it's ruler.

"Everything I'm about to destroy," he whispered.

When Xana had first approached Jim with his plans the man, at that time not yet a Captain, had been completely taken with the General. Older, more experienced, exotic and mysterious, it was no wonder Jim had been willing to cling the man's every word. And the things he said! Talk of being peace, permanent, perfect, to the kingdom, It was impossible to find fault in such a tantalizing offer.

Of course, at the time Jim hadn't realized the cost of the picture perfect peace Xana had promised him. Subterfuge and deceit, for months on end. Numerous murders, both of friends and strangers. An entire brotherhood of assassins, friends to the kingdom, slaughtered. And now, the final, most horrifying act in Xana's ploy for peace—the death of Jim's king.

Jim's breath hitched just at the thought and he sighed hard, letting his head fall into his hands.

"It's for the greater good of the kingdom," he reminded himself. The words, once a mantra of strength, sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Trying to regain his conviction, Jim forced his thoughts away from Xana's next move and onto his new assignment—hunting down the last of the Lyoko warriors. Jim had never personally met the Lyoko warriors, but he had seen them once. Two years ago a pair of them had come to the castle to meet with the King, and Jim had been one of the lucky ones chosen to stand guard while the assassins and the King met in private.

He'd only caught a small look at the pair, but he could remember being surprised at how young they'd been. One , a man probably in his late teens, was standing back in the shadows. The other, a young woman about the same age as her partner, had been the one talking with the King. She'd been slender and lovely, with olive skin and silken black hair that she kept flicking over her shoulders.

They'd spoken in hushed voices, but Jim had been able to make out a little of what they'd discussed. Most of it had seemed to center around the idea of an alliance—the word 'treaty' had been bandied about quite a bit—but exactly what kind of alliance, and with who, Jim hadn't been able to tell. He assumed one between the assassins and the kingdom.

Jim had always assumed that nothing had come of the secretive meetings. Assassins hadn't started showing up in the halls of the castle or among the military patrols sent out to police the kingdom. The Lyoko warriors had been considered friends to the court, but only in theory and rumors. Only Xana and the King himself knew for sure if the assassins were working under the orders of the kingdom, and if they had been then Xana had failed to mention as much.

But he had targeted the Lyoko warriors, very pointedly, in fact, and Jim could now only assume that these were the actions of a man trying to rid himself of a potential threat to his plans. And the only thing that would make the warriors a threat to a takeover would be if they held some kind of alliance or had pledged some level of fidelity to the King.

The possibility added a whole new level of weight to what it was Jim was being asked to do. Hunting down enemies of the crown was noble and necessary. Killing someone tied to the King without the King's consent was tantamount to treason.

Of course, so was killing your King in the first place.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Jim wondered. He pulled fingers through his hair, sighing through his nose. The conflict swirling in his mind was almost painful to contemplate.

Luckily a knock at Jim's door helped derail his thoughts.

"I'm coming," Jim called. Shaking himself to settle his thoughts, he moved to his door. A young guard greeted him outside, barely disguised admiration in his eyes and a folded letter in his hand. Used to the looks from the younger soldiers, Jim deftly ignored it and asked, "What can I do for you?"

"A message from General Xana," the solder said, offering his letter.

"Thank you," Jim said, taking the note and retreating back into his room, not waiting for the soldier to try and strike up a conversation.

_What do you want, Xana?_ Jim wondered, taking a seat at his desk. Unfolding the note, Xana's square, rough script stared up at the captain.

_Warriors spotted two miles south of the castle, patrol down. Your team will meet you at the south gate at quarter till ten._

No one could say Xana wasn't to-the-point.

"Patrol down," Jim muttered, rereading the note. So some of the Lyoko warriors had come to Carthage, and they'd come ready for a fight.

Apparently Xana was ready to meet them, maybe more so than Jim had previously realized. When Xana had talked about putting him in charge of a team to find the other warriors, Jim had assumed he meant some time after the King had been replaced. Not some time in the next twelve hours. Putting together a team for something like this would have taken time, and Jim found himself feeling oddly disquieted by the idea that Xana had been assembling him a team without ever actually telling the Captain about it.

"I hope this team of yours is really up to the task," Jim told the letter before leaving it lying on his desk. Collecting his cloak and sword, Jim headed for the door. Xana's words—_warriors spotted, patrol down, your team_—and his own doubts—_so is killing your King_—trailed him out into the hall and into the dark night beyond.

* * *

The drawbridge outside Carthage lowered slowly, its well oiled chains gently jingling as the castle opened itself to the night. Before the bridge was even fully lowered six horses galloped across it, their riders cloaked in black. Leaping the small distance between the raised bridge and the ground, the group took off down the road, banking right around the side of the castle and towards the woods looming in the distance.

"Do you think he was with them?"

"Xana? No, I don't think so."

William hmm'd thoughtfully. "Where do you think they are going?"

"You tell me."

A sigh escaped the young man. Looking over from where he lounged across the tall shop roof, William's gaze landed on the raven haired woman crouched at the corner of the roof.

"You're the one who supplied the man's information, aren't you?"

"And you're the one who supplied me," Yumi said.

"Not with much," William reminded her.

"You knew they were going to the Lyoko base."

"Anyone who knew they were Lyoko warriors could have guessed that," William said. "But I didn't give you a location, just a destination."

"One and the same," Yumi said. William sighed.

"Since you know that I apparently know the location of this base, then you must also know why Xana wanted to find it, right?" William rolled his head to the side, eyeing his companion when she failed to respond. "Well?"

"Well," she repeated, "You're wrong. Xana didn't share his details with me."

"Just his money," William said. He could practically feel Yumi's dark look.

"He wanted to know for sure that they were headed to the Lyoko base, nothing more," Yumi paused, and then added, "I'm not sure why. From what they said to Theo in the shop, it was the castle who'd hired them in the first place." Yumi's mind flashed to the room she'd met Xana in, and the dead body it contained. From the quick once over she'd given the room before leaving, she'd deemed the death an assassin's work. Maybe one of the Lyoko warriors?

"Hired them for what?" William asked. He was doing his best to ask the question casually, but Yumi could see the minute tensing in his shoulders and the way his head tilted slightly towards her to await an answer.

"There was a dead soldier in the castle," she said, watching William carefully for his reaction. "Looked like an assassination, and it had happened in the section of the castle Theo had provided the group blueprints for."

"I've never known the castle to use the warriors against one of their own," William said. Eventually he noticed Yumi's questioning look and added, almost hesitatingly, "The warriors and the Kingdom have a kind of alliance. I've never known one to use the other in a self destructive way."

"And by that, you mean the Kingdom wouldn't use the warriors to kill one of their own."

"No." Yumi considered William's words for a long moment before saying,

"You seem to know a lot about these Lyoko warriors."

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" William agreed. Yumi took careful not of the tiny hints of body language the young man couldn't quite mask with indifference. They screamed of evasiveness and a discomfort with the direction she'd chosen to take with their conversation.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Forward, aren't we?"

"You know more than you're letting on," Yumi said, scowling as William rose and stretched.

"And you're asking a lot of questions I don't think you really want to know the answers to," he told her.

"And who are you to decide that for me?" Yumi asked. She rose lithely to her feet as William started off across the roof. Annoyance welled in her chest as William's retreating shoulders stared back at her. "You shouldn't turn your back on me, Dunbar."

"You should walk away from this, Yumi," William said, his back still turned. "There's more at play here than you realize, and none of it involves you. Going to Xana with the information that you took him was most likely an incredibly stupid move, but one you can still leave behind you."

"I'm not going anywhere without some answers."

William sighed, and when he looked back at her, his dark eyes shadowed by a fringe of wild bangs, his gaze seemed heavy with burdensome knowledge.

"You have no idea what you've helped start. I just hope, for all our sakes, that those with the power to do so can stop it."

* * *

In the darkness of the woods two figures crouched, bright eyes trained on the packed dirt road. They'd heard the calls of alarm, knew the pile of bodies—once a royal patrol—had been spotted by the group sent out to relieve them. The pair had trailed the men as they returned to the castle to share news of what they'd seen. One by one, a careful arrow appeared between a man's shoulders, or from the side of his neck and he fell, leaving the patrol one less each time.

A breadcrumb trail, so to speak, made of pierced bodies that littered the woods, leading the way for the soldiers that were sure to come. Sure to try and find them and end their lives, just like they'd wanted to do to all the other warriors.

In the distance the faint sounds of hoof beats echoed through the trees, shouting voices carrying on the wind. Blue eyes met brown, and something quick passed between them—a look of uncertainty, of fear, one of determination and understanding, of brotherhood.

It was time.


End file.
